Chapter 3: Deepest Desire
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Chapter 3: "Deepest Desire"
"So, who exactly is this Jean Stern?" Clair asked as she and Fleur stepped across the Beauxbatons gardens. The flowers were constantly in bloom due to the magic pulsing through the grounds. All of the hedges were cut into the shape of animals and enchanted to act like their sources of inspiration. Nearby, the central fountain had been dedicated to the now late Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. The two alchemists were wrapped in a lover's embrace, laughing merrily as water swirled around them.
"Officially, he is a family friend from the States," Fleur stared off into the horizon. The downside to the Triwizard Tournament would be that she would miss her final year at Beauxbatons. She already felt nostalgic for the towering, snowy mountains surrounding the school.
Clair snorted. Her short, chestnut hair bounced with every step she took. Cute freckles dotted her button nose. While her left eye was green, her right eye matched the blue of the heavens above them, "Oh right. Because your father is known for his old friends. Especially from over the pond."
Fleur could only nod. Marrying a Veela had put significant distance between Sebastian and his kin. Most people on his side of the family only began to reach out when he gained political power and success. By then, he had no interest in them, "I actually do have third cousins that moved to the States. They seem nice enough. They've apparently been sending him Christmas cards every year since he was a boy. They even congratulated Papa on marrying the love of his life, but I've never actually met them."
"Tracking them down would be too much work for anyone looking into the story," Clair agreed. They passed a towering shrub shaped like a bear eating honey. The gorgeous Palace of Beauxbatons stood before them. Enchantments kept the pale, outside walls of the enormous chateau spotless. Dark green tiles covered the slanted rooftops and cone shaped towers. Every brick seemed to sparkle from the overabundance of enchantments on the building. Both girls could see people bustling by the windows as people rushed about for the start of term.
"Exactly," Feur led Clair up the cobbled path towards the entrance.
"He's a little young, though," Clair giggled in amusement. "Don't tell me that he's a big tough veteran taking potions to look like a boy. If so, he probably should have aimed for seventh year instead of fourth."
"I've observed him. The only things strong enough to keep such a young appearance would be Polyjuise or Flash of Youth, and he doesn't take any potions on the hour every hour," Fleur explained. "He's actually fourteen, but I've tested him myself. He's a dangerous enemy to have."
"Really?" Clair lifted a delicate eyebrow.
"Yes. He easily fought off my full Allure and defeated me with his own mental magic," Fleur noticed that her friend had stopped. "Clair?"
"He fought off your full Allure?" Clair gasped. "I don't know any man that can do that. Well, except your father. Even my Papa blushed and looked to Maman for help when your mother did a demonstration once."
"Jean is a…mentally powerful young man," Fleur chose her words carefully.
"And not hard to look at either," Clair gave her a teasing look.
"Clair! He's three years younger than us!" Fleur chastised her friend.
"Three years means nothing. My father is four years older than my mother, and nobody says anything about that," Clair noted.
"Your mother was twenty-four when they met," Fleur turned to walk away. "I am an adult. He is a minor."
"The age of consent in France is fifteen," Clair gained a wicked smirk as she followed the Veela. "You'd just have to wait a year before you ravish him."
"You're disgusting," Fleur muttered.
"Oh come on. He can fight off your full Allure. That's rare. Plus, there's the romantic story of him acting as your bodyguard and slowly falling in love with you," Clair sighed dramatically. "You can't tell me that you haven't thought about it."
"Everyone has intrusive thoughts sometimes, Clair. It doesn't mean we should actually jump off a tower or kiss our bodyguards," Fleur rolled her eyes. "His job is simple. He'll take care of anyone trying to get in my way so I can focus on the tournament, and I will be focusing on that tournament. It's the ultimate opportunity. I don't have time to be a lovesick puppy."
"Nobody said that you can't be a hardened champion and an enamoured maiden at the same time," Clair argued.
"I have no intention of falling in love with my bodyguard," Fleur admitted. "I doubt we'll even interact much."
"Fine. If that's how you feel, maybe I'll take my shot," Clair elbowed her friend in the ribs. "I'll have to hurry, though. The younger girls are going crazy for him, and having a man who can't be tempted doesn't sound bad at all."
"Do as you wish," Fleur rolled her eyes as they approached the courtyard. They were surprised to see a small crowd forming around what appeared to be a confrontation. Five older boys were surrounding the familiar figure of Jean. The girls rushed to see what the problem was, catching the final part of the conversation.
"-my choice. You should open your minds," Jean held up his palms in surrender. He now wore the blue uniform of Beauxbatons. His raven remained dutifully on his shoulder. As always, a friendly smile spread across his face. "If you want to complain about who will be visiting Hogwarts, you should speak with Madame Maxime."
"I know that the decision went above the half, err, the headmistress's head," Louis Montange sneered. His curly dark hair fell in all directions. While he had a chiseled jawline, his condescending expression twisted his face into something hideous.
Fleur almost rolled her eyes at the sight of Louis. He had been the bane of her existence during her time at Beauxbatons. His family was rich and influential, holding many seats in the magical French Parliament. They were one of the few purebloods holding onto old customs and bigotry. Louis despised Fleur just as much as he wanted her. She could remember his disparaging comments from all the way back in his third year, proclaiming that one day she would be his concubine.
Jean shook his head in amusement, "Well, I'm grateful you think so highly of me to say that I'm above our esteemed headmistress, but I am afraid you're gravely mistaken about the political sway of a fourteen-year-old exchange student."
Chuckles spread throughout the crowd. Louis's face grew red, "You have the say about whether you accept the offer or not, fool!"
"I suppose so. But I already agreed to go, and one does not simply go back on his word to Minister Delacour," Jean glanced at the four lackeys surrounding him. "Plus, I don't think that any of you would take my spot if I did back down. Aren't you at the bottom of all your classes?"
Louis's reddened cheeks darkened further as the surrounding chuckles shifted to full laughter. He silenced the audience by unsheathing his wand, "You dare mock me, you filthy, weak Mudblood."
"Technically, I'm a half-blood, but that doesn't matter to me. We're all magic here, right?" Jean's friendly expression remained. He was not insulted in the slightest by the term. "Come now. Let's all just calm down before someone gets hurt."
"The only one getting hurt here is you," Louis pointed his wand at Jean.
Fleur knew that her bodyguard did not need her help, but she still decided to intervene for the sake of her father and Madame Maxime's honor, "Montange, that's enough. Let's stop this before a professor shows up."
Louis's eyes darted to Fleur, "No one asked you, whore."
Fleur remained unmoved by his insult, "This childishness won't get you what you want. Put your wand away so we can all head to class in peace. If it helps, I'll even put in a good word to Madame Maxime for you."
"I don't need the pity or help from either of you filthy half-breeds," Louis was about to turn his wand towards Fleur when Jean stopped him by grabbing his wrist. Everyone blinked in surprise. The new student's hand moved faster than most of them could track.
"Now. Insulting and threatening me is one thing, Mister Montange," Jean spoke with a soft, teasing tone, but there was a threatening aura behind his words. "But doing so to Miss Delacour is a step too far. Please apologize to her."
"Excuse me?!" Louis tried to yank his arm free but couldn't move. It felt as though his limb was encased in metal.
"I'm kindly asking you to apologize to Miss Delacour for threatening her," Jean bowed his head respectfully.
"Who do you think you are? One of you! Get him off me!" Louis roared.
The four lackeys pulled out their wands. They unleashed stunning spells at the same time. Unfortunately for them, none of them had noticed Jean's mental touch. He had silently ordered them to position themselves in the perfect spots and to point their wands at differing heights. Releasing his hold on Louis, Jean surprised everyone by easily weaving around the bursts of light. Each curse flew by him and rammed into the other members of Montange's crew. All four of the attackers dropped to the ground in unconscious, defeated heaps.
"W-What the hell?!" Louis stumbled back in shock, pointing his wand back at Jean.
"Once again, I kindly suggest that you apologize to Miss Delacour," Jean had yet to pull out his wand.
"Jean, I don't need an apology from a worm," Fleur huffed. "Put your wand away, Montange. It's over. You embarrassed yourself. Again."
"You…" Louis's face was a deep crimson. Anger clouded his judgment as he turned his wand to Fleur one final time. His father had told him about the backstage politics surrounding the Delacour family, and he was going to put an end to the farce before it could begin. "Damn Veela whore! I know you're the cause! Cruci-AHHHHHH!"
Jean didn't allow Montange to finish the spell. He latched onto Louis's wrist once more. The hitwizard dragged the offending arm over his shoulder and snapped the appendage down, shattering bone and ripping cartilage at the elbow until the extremity was bent the wrong direction. Dropping his wand, Louis collapsed to the ground, screaming, sobbing, and desperately clutching his broken limb. Everyone watched the scene with wide eyes as the transfer student easily defeated five older students without the use of his own wand.
"You should have just apologized," Jean reached down and plucked Louis's wand from the grass before the broken pureblood could try anything desperate. Terror remained perched on the hitwizard's shoulder, as though a fight hadn't just broken out in front of the raven.
Fleur was pulled out of her frozen state when Clair leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Okay. Now, I'm serious. If you don't make a move, I will. Because I might be in love myself."
Madame Maxime's office had almost as many books as the Beauxbatons library. Towering bookshelves lined the walls. Old tombs were put on display in various cases. The white, tiled floor sparkled from cleaning enchantments. Her desk was neat and orderly. She had a wonderful view of the courtyard and the gardens. As such, the half-giant had no questions about what happened between Jean and Louis.
"So, Mr. Stern," Maxime eyed him. She was a towering woman covered in furs. Her stern features were framed by her short, brown hair. The Beauxbatons headmistress stood at over twice the height of Jean. Normally, she would be an intimidating figure, but not to him. All flesh melted before the power of the mind. "It's only the start of term, and you've already created trouble for me. A fight? Really?"
Jean shrugged, "I do apologize, but there's little that I can do when five people point wands at me. It was only self-defense. Plus, I didn't even use my own wand. So, you really can't call what I did excessive."
"True. While you broke Mr. Montange's arm, I have many eyewitness accounts saying that he was about to cast an Unforgivable at Miss Delacour," Maxime admitted. "If anything, you showed an astonishing amount of control. That broken arm will be the least of Mister Montange's punishments. I can assure you of that. He'll be gone from Beauxbatons by morning."
"That's good. I'd hate to have another confrontation with him. I won't allow any harm to come to Miss Delacour," Jean answered without hesitation. "Threatening me is amusing. Threatening her is unacceptable."
"I see," Maxime stood from her seat. "I am not a stupid woman, Mr. Stern, or should I call you Phobos?"
Phobos's friendly, handsome expression faded into chilling apathy, "In private, you can call me what you wish."
"Ah. There he is," Maxime stepped around the desk. "Sebastian didn't tell me much, but I have my own contacts. All I had to do was mention a boy with a massive scar on his forehead. They looked like they were about to wet themselves. Phobos. The god of fear. And I thought Mr. Montange thought highly of himself."
Phobos shrugged, "I didn't give myself my nickname."
"No. I suppose you didn't. The Guild does that," Maxime stopped in front of him, towering over his growing frame. "Phobos. The second ranked person in the Hitwizard Guild. A perfect record. You're famous for having your enemies scream in fear just at the sight of you. You're brutal. Unforgiving. Unfeeling."
"Indeed. I am all of those things," Phobos looked up, meeting her gaze. No emotions stirred in his eyes. "But I'm also uncompromisingly loyal."
"Indeed. You don't even take contracts against previous clients. That trait is very rare in your line of work," Maxime leaned down to his level. "I trust Sebastian to do what's best for his family, but I can't have you harming students unnecessarily or ruining Beauxbatons' reputation."
"And did my actions today do either of those things?" Phobos petted the loyal raven on his shoulder.
"No. You acted better than I could have ever requested," Maxime admitted. "But I have heard many stories, Phobos. So, for me to allow you to join us at Hogwarts, I must have your word that you will fulfill these two requirements. Don't needlessly hurt my students and don't bring shame to my school."
"My top priority is to Miss Delacour," Phobos answered simply. "But I understand your concerns. I will protect Miss Delacour at all costs, even if it kills me. At the same time, if the situation allows it, I will put protecting your students and Beauxbatons' reputations as second and third on my priority list."
"Good. Very good," Maxime smiled. She stood back up to her full height once more. "Then, I welcome you, Mr. Stern. I think that you will be an excellent addition during our time at Hogwarts."
Jean's unfeeling expression shifted back to his joyful mask, "Thank you, Madame Maxime. It is my honor to represent this school during the Triwizard Tournament."
"So, we're really going to Hogwarts, huh? I never thought I'd see the day," a deep voice boomed.
Phobos nodded. He stared out the window of the highest tower in Beauxbatons. The view of the sun slipping behind the mountains was stunning, "Yes. It's time. We can't avoid it any longer. Collecting the Horcruxes should be our top priority moving forward, and that diadem is in the Come And Go room."
"That will be the final easy one. With the diary already destroyed that is. Who knows where those lunatics hid the locket and the goblet. That snake will have to be the last one. Plus, there's your brother."
"Don't call him my brother," Phobos apathetically chastised his closest friend.
"But he is," Terror hopped off of Phobos's shoulder, landing on the opened window. "By blood. By magic. By that curse. That means something to most humans, no?"
"Not to me. Family is who you choose. Not who you share your genes with," Phobos stared at his familiar. "You're more of my brother than him."
Terror flew to the floor. His form rapidly shifted and grew until he matched the appearance of Adam Potter based on the most recent pictures taken during the Quidditch World Cup, "So, should I look like this instead?"
Phobos glared out the window, "Stop it, or I will take away your ability to pick your own form."
"Fine," Terror morphed until he appeared as the lovely Fleur Delacour. Phobos was interested to sense a minor Allure from the pet who had helped him survive for seven years. "Should I look like this instead? It's appealing to you humans, right? The boys just drool over her. The girls glare at her in envy. Yet they're all so afraid of her in some way. It's delicious."
"If you must taunt me with a human form, then this is acceptable," Phobos remained unmoved.
"Your body reacts to her too," Terror tucked a silvery blonde strand of hair behind his ear.
"I have the body of a teenager. It reacts to any woman who could be considered good looking in any conceivable light," Phobos retorted.
"Not like this. Your hormones run wild. I can feel them through our connection," Terror shifted back to his raven form, landing on the window once more. "So many feelings, Master."
"I have no feelings," Phobos argued.
"No. You do. You simply just use them as fuel. Smart, but that's not in your human nature. Perhaps, you should consider her? You apes enjoy mating and procreating no? By all standards that you know, she would make the strongest offspring," Terror tilted his head.
"Your jokes won't get me to laugh," Phobos didn't react to the absurd idea of bringing children into his loveless existence. Deep in his mind, in a part where even his familiar couldn't touch, he hid his disgust of terrible memories which weren't his.
"Believe it not, Master. I do want you to be happy for the time you have on this planet," Terror eyed his owner. "You were the one who dragged me into the realm of sentience. Without you, I'm nothing. You have no other goals than stopping that Dark Lord of yours."
"There's always aiming for the number one spot in the Guild," Phobos felt a flair in his chest.
"Now, you're the one telling jokes. I sensed that fear. Grand Weaver Norn is not someone to trifle with. Almost as much as that Dark Lord of yours. He would probably leave your body intact at least," Terror turned to examine the horizon. "The woman who could be a Dark Lady if she so desired. No. You don't want to face her."
"Then, what do I want, Terror?" Phobos closed his eyes. "What do I want with this short time that I have left?"
"The same thing you've wanted since you were the lonely six-year-old boy who found me in a dresser tucked away in the attic," Terror answered.
Phobos wanted to argue, but his familiar was connected to his mind. Terror knew him better than anyone, "In one year, Miss Delacour will either have grown to hate me or have forgotten all about me. Expecting anything else will only bring pain. Besides, I am her sworn sword and shield. There can be nothing."
"Fair enough. But there are others. You don't need to be alone until the end," Terror sighed in joy when Phobos began to pet him.
"I'm not alone. I have you," Phobos opened his eyes.
Terror felt a pulse of emotion approaching them, "Speak of the devil."
"Hush. I'd rather not explain what you are to her just yet," Phobos responded.
Fleur was not surprised to find Jean in Beauxbaton's highest tower. She had noticed that he didn't stay in his room much back in Delacour Manor. He would often go to the highest point in her home to observe the horizon. This was actually the first place she checked when she left to search for him, "Jean. You missed dinner. How was your meeting with Madame Maxime?"
"It went well. It wasn't like I could be punished for defending myself. Or you for that matter," Jean gave her a stunning smile. He gently petted Terror who was also watching the sunset.
"Yes. Well. Thank you for that, but I can defend myself. Especially from Montange," Fleur stepped next to him.
"Yes. You can, but I promised to protect you from all threats outside the tournament. Montange technically counted," Jean gave her a teasing side glance.
"Fair. He was just an annoyance. I'm glad that I won't see him this coming year, but I will miss this," Fleur eyed the horizon. "Beauxbatons is truly beautiful."
"I've heard that Hogwarts is beautiful too. Just in a different way," Jean commented. "It will be a bit colder, but graduates rave about the castle and the landscape."
"Well, Beauxbatons will always be better," Fleur stuck her nose up in the air.
"Let's meet in the middle and agree that the food is better here. I've traveled to many different places, and Britain's meals can be a bit…lacking in comparison," Jean chuckled. "And I was born there."
"Really?" Fleur blinked. "I didn't know that. You don't have an accent. I almost thought you were born in France with how fluent you are."
"I have traveled to many places and have learned many languages," Jean remained aloof. "Mastery of Occlumency allows someone to remember basically everything."
"I've heard that it's one of the hardest branches of magic to master," Fleur commented.
"It is for someone without the right talents. I'm sure that you would have an easier time than most," Jean turned to her. "You're full of questions this evening, Miss Delacour. Did I do something wrong?"
"No. It's simply that I don't know much about you," Fleur leaned against the windowseal. "How am I supposed to trust someone I know nothing about?"
"You know that I'm strong and that I won't betray you," Jean shrugged.
"Not good enough," Fleur gave him a pointed glare. "Let's start with the basics. My name is Fleur Delacour. My favorite color is yellow. My favorite food is strawberry short cake. My favorite subject is Charms. Now, it's your turn."
Jean's eyes sparkled in amusement, "Very well. My favorite color is black. My favorite food is a cheeseburger. My favorite subject is Defense Against The Dark Arts."
"A cheeseburger? Really?" Fleur giggled. "Why?"
"Why? Do I really need a reason?" Jean inquired.
"Um. Yes. Of course. I like yellow because it reminds me of lying in the grass with the warm sunlight rolling over me. I like strawberry shortcake because Papa ordered some to celebrate Gabbi's birth. I like Charms because Professor Simon inspired me," Fleur pointed at him. "Now, you."
Jean stroked his chin in thought, "Very well. I like black because…well, because no one picks black as their favorite. That must be lonely."
Fleur was surprised by the answer. At the same time, she felt pleased, "Really?"
"I like cheeseburgers because there was a time when I was very hungry. Think 'I hadn't eaten in a very, very long time' levels of hunger, and that was the first thing I ate after that. It was the greatest thing I've ever tasted," Jean elaborated.
Fleur nodded, "Well, that makes sense at least. Even if it's still simple."
Jean continued, "And I like Defense because I enjoy combat. The struggle between two beings with only one coming out on top."
"Yet you didn't use your wand when you had a chance," Fleur noted.
"Combat doesn't just mean wandwork. Martial arts are important too. In fact, it's very effective against witches and wizards. They hardly know how to respond to a punch to the face," Jean joked.
Fleur giggled once more, "Fair point. Maybe you can show me a thing or two? It might help me in the tournament."
"If that's what you want," Jean agreed. "I must say, though, and forgive me if I'm overstepping my bounds, but you're going through a lot of effort for this tournament. Is this really necessary?"
"It is," Fleur grew tense. "Even in today's day and age, it's not easy being a half-breed."
"That it isn't," Jean's cheerful smile diminished for a moment.
"And being part Veela. Well. There is so much stigma. Men and women see me as an object. A product of lust or contempt or envy. They see me as the Veela girl. Not Fleur, the top student at this school," Fleur pointed at him. "And I'm not saying that I'm untouchable. I know you beat me, but that was different."
"If it makes you feel better, I did go all out against you," Jean shrugged.
"Yes. That makes things so much better," Fleur rolled her eyes. "But I have worked hard to be the best. To stand above everyone because of my talent and achievements. Not because of my Allure."
"But your Allure is a talent," Jean argued.
"What?" Fleur frowned. "No. It's not."
"It is. Veela have the gift of natural mental magic. It was part of the study I told you about. Why did your ancestors evolve with such a power? Leading researchers think that it was a defense mechanism. You can already shift into avians and throw fire, but that was only physical protection. According to the old stories, which I assume you already know, Veela had fragile hearts. They developed the ability to discern whether or not a suitor was genuine, whether a friend was true, and whether a stranger was a threat," Jean elaborated. "In my opinion, it's a wonderful ability."
"R-Really?" Fluer's cheeks were lightly flushed. "But it makes life so difficult, and it's been so fetishised."
"Don't let the folly of men taint your opinion on your own talents. So, men drool. So, women scowl. You at least know who they really are," Jean gave her a reassuring smile. "That's the ultimate gift. To automatically know who you can trust. Look at what it led to. Your mother knew that she could trust her father, and it led to a loving family. Plus, your friend Clair seems like she would stick by you through the worst this world has to offer."
"You know what," Fleur slowly nodded. "You have a point."
Jean chuckled, "Of course I do. I'm brilliant."
"Watch it, or I'll never compliment you again," Fleur smiled in jest. "And just so you know, I'm still determined to make it through the tournament. I want the world to acknowledge me for me. Not as a Veela. But I suppose using my Allure as part of my arsenal isn't a terrible idea."
"There you go," Jean glanced out to see that the sun had set and darkness spread across the grounds. "So, is that your deepest desire? Acknowledgment?"
"Hey. I thought I was the one asking questions," Fleur teased him. "I don't know if it's acknowledgement that I want. More like satisfaction. Eventually, I want to look back at everything I achieved and earned and be happy with it."
"That's a good goal," Jean muttered.
"And what about you?" Fluer turned to examine the dark gardens as well. "What's your deepest desire?"
Jean stroked his chin in thought for a minute, glancing repeatedly at Terror, "Would you believe that I don't know yet? I got into this line of work because of necessity."
Fleur gained a concerned expression, "Why? Why were you so hungry that a cheeseburger tasted like heaven and this line of work was a necessity? And don't use that story you told my family about that scar of yours. A muggle car crash? Really? What actually happened?"
"Alright. But I think I'm done after this," Jean rubbed his enormous scar. "I would prefer not to go into too many details, but I was…not wanted to say the least. It led to a lot of trouble. So, I had to make a hard choice. Accept living like discarded trash or try to live my own way. You can see what I decided, and I never once regretted it."
"Oh. I see," Fleur felt bad for asking. "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Jean crossed his arms behind his back.
"You're right. That's enough for today," Fleur announced. "Thank you for sharing. I feel better about this situation."
"Of course. We're leaving for Hogwarts soon. You need to feel comfortable," Jean continued enjoying the view of the grounds at night. "Shall we stay here just a bit longer? It's a beautiful evening."
"You're right. It is," Fleur stood next to her bodyguard. They gently pet Terror and observed the horizon, wondering what the future held for them.
The next chapter will be updated on January 2, 2026. No. I'm going to try to edit a chapter during the week of Christmas. That would end in disaster for me. Happy Holidays.
Chapter 4: The Gunslinger
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Chapter 4: "The Gunslinger"
Adam Potter loved Hogwarts more than any other place in the world. His family home was always comfortable and warm, but the shadow of Harry always lingered in the manor's hallways. Hogwarts was an entirely different matter. The towering stone structure with shifting staircases would always hold a place in his heart. This was where he had found real friendship, faced impossible odds, and grew to be more than just the Boy Who Lived.
Sitting at a desk in the library, Adam glanced through his round glasses and across the table. Ron was working on an essay. The redhead would never be the most studious person in the world, but Adam and Hermione had been excellent influences on him. His grades had risen due to having his freckled nose in some sort of book on most days. He still insisted on playing chess as a reward, which they indulged, even though they had yet to best him.
Meanwhile, Hermione had found more joy in Hogwarts outside of academia. Adam had researched studies proving that relaxation and periodic breaks led to higher grades. Hermione now relaxed more with the two of them, enjoying life outside dusty tomes. The bushy haired girl now giggled more often than when they first met. Her wide smiles always filled him with glee, although she could shift to serious in an instant if need be.
"What are you looking at me for, Adam? Do I have something on my face?" Ron turned to Hermione.
"Surprisingly, no. Not this time, Ron," Hermione teased her friend. "But he's right, Adam. You've been distracted for a bit."
"Oh. Sorry," Adam blushed. He swept a hand through his messy, black hair. A sly grin seemed to be permanently spread across his features. The V-scar above his eyebrow was the only blemish on his handsome, devil-may-care features. "I was just, uh, feeling grateful."
"Grateful for what? This Charms essay is killing me," Ron rolled his neck with a satisfying pop.
"Just you two, I guess," Adam shifted in his seat, embarrassed by his words. "It's just…I never had friends like you two. You've stuck by me through everything."
"Of course we have," Hermione nodded in encouragement, happy to discuss their feelings. "Why wouldn't we?"
"Well, um," Adam rubbed the back of his neck. "I never really had true friends like you two before Hogwarts."
"True friends?" Hermione blinked. "What do you mean by that? You seemed to already know almost everyone in our grade when we started first year."
"Well, I knew a lot of people. We spent time together, but it was mostly because of their parents," Adam lowered his head in shame. "Or because I was the Boy Who Lived. None of them really liked me much back when I was a young kid. Especially you, Ron."
"Oh yeah," Ron nodded. "You were a real prick back in the day."
"Ronald!" Hermione gasped.
Adam winced when Madam Pince shushed them. He gave her an apologetic wave before casting a spell to smother their discussion, "No. He's right, Hermione. I was a real brat. Think Malfoy without the racism part."
Hermione stared at him, flabbergasted, "Surely, you weren't that bad."
"Oh. He was," Ron laughed. "He was always like, 'I'm the Boy Who Lived! You have to do what I say!' Mum and Dad would always get on my case when I told him to sod off. They never punished me, though. I think they agreed with me. Fred and George once told me that they overheard Mum ranting about how your parents had changed. Normally, I assumed the two of them were trying to pull one over on me, but they seemed to like how I told you off. So, they were probably telling the truth."
"Yeah. Back before Harry disappeared," Adam took a deep, calming breath. "No. I mean. Ran away from us."
"Right. Your twin brother," Hermione bit her lip. She had never asked too many questions about the missing Harry Potter. His running away had been one of the first things she read about the Potters once entering the Wizarding World, but she had assumed the words were lies after meeting Adam and the Potters. The brunette always meant to ask her friend more about the situation, but there was always something in the way. She hadn't wanted to sour her first real friendships. Then, there was the Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, and Peter Pettigrew's escape from Azkaban.
"I remember him. You hardly ever let any kid even talk to him," Ron's words caused Adam to flinch, but the Boy Who Lived didn't argue. "He was real quiet. Always had his head in a book. Disappeared into the corner to be alone. I actually think you would have liked him, Hermione. I tried to get him to play with us once, but Adam freaked out."
"I always felt like any attention he got was stealing from me," Adam clenched his fists in shame.
"Merlin. What about your parents?" Hermione asked.
Ron snorted, "Who do you think made him that way? Oh. They acted as though their shite didn't stink."
"Ronald!" Hermione snapped.
"No. He's right again. They were arrogant jerks, acting like I was perfect. There wasn't any room for Harry, and he saw that. I guess that's why he ran away," Adam closed his eyes at the memory.
"Merlin. I never would have guessed. Professor Potter and your dad are so kind," Hermione muttered.
"That's apparently how they used to be. Before You Know Who was taken down by Adam," Ron pointed at Adam.
Adam's hazel eyes snapped open, "Things fell apart after that. I remember it like it was yesterday. Dumbledore was the one who discovered it. A whole week after Harry had run away according to the ward records. Oh. I've never seen Dumbledore so mad. It felt like a thunderstorm appeared in the middle of our living room. He yelled that Harry was gone and ran off to find him. My parents were shocked. They just sat there for a minute before jumping up to search for him. His room was completely abandoned."
"A full week," Hermione couldn't hide her disgust.
"That's how everyone looked at us," Adam nodded at her expression. "And rightfully so. Suddenly, no one wanted anything to do with us. I didn't have any real friends. So, I was left all alone. But there were a few people who stuck by my parents, even as the news tore them apart. Sirius. Remus. The Weasleys."
Ron grimaced, "I've never seen Mum smack someone like she did Adam's mum. And Dad broke Adam's dad's nose. They stuck by them, though. Even led the search party. Bill and Charlie went too."
"And nobody found him?" Hermione winced, knowing what that meant.
"Nope. Not a trace," Adam admitted. "It was really hard. Things changed so quickly. Mum and Dad snapped back to how they were before and started raising me like a normal kid. They even put me in Muggle school. That was the only place I had any kind of friends. Hell, Ron only even bothered to talk to me again during the first train ride to Hogwarts."
"You looked sad," Ron shrugged. "I thought I'd give you another chance."
"But what about Rose?" Hermione gulped. "You don't think that your parents were trying to replace Harry, do you?"
"No. Definitely not," Adam's eyes grew foggy through the memories. "Mum started getting sick not long after Harry ran away. She had gotten pregnant right before it all went down. It was a strange time, but things actually started to settle after Rosie was born. It felt like happiness had been injected back into our lives. The media outrage settled. Life continued. I think Dad managed to move on, but Mum always held out hope that Harry would come back."
"At the least, no one held anything against Rose," Ron noted. "And she definitely didn't get the Harry treatment."
Adam winced, "No. Definitely not the Harry treatment."
"I never would have guessed," Hermione mumbled. She couldn't hold much against Adam for being a brat while younger, but her opinion on his parents had shifted.
"Yeah. It's kind of weird being here at Hogwarts without Harry. We should have been like Fred and George, but I helped ruin that," Adam admitted. "It's why you guys are so important. No one else would have stuck by me through the craziness. I'm just grateful."
Ron smiled at him, "Hey. We got your back. Even if you bring something crazy this year too."
"Don't jinx us," Hermione playfully smacked Ron's arm, grateful to lighten the mood. "I, for one, am happy that we'll just be watching the Triwizard Tournament. It will be nice to be in the audience compared to the thick of it, even if Pettigrew never did show up last year."
"He was too much of a coward," Adam shook his head. "My parents and uncles swore that he would run far away, and he did."
"And luckily, we're having pretty French girls visiting the castle instead of Dementors," Ron joked. "That is way better."
"Ronald. Honestly. Don't be a pig," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"What? I can't enjoy looking at a pretty girl?" Ron raised his hands defensively. "It's not like I'm talking about them like Seamus does."
"He's right, Hermione," Adam defended his male best friend. "We are boys. We like pretty girls. Nothing wrong with that, right? I mean. As long as we're respectful."
Hermione deflated, "Well. That's fair. I'll let it go, but neither of you two better give me lip if I grow to fancy any of the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons boys."
If there was one aspect of Jean that Fleur couldn't wrap her head around, it would be his appetite. He had held himself back at Delacour Manor, finishing only the single plate provided for him each meal. His habits at Beauxbatons was an entirely different story. Every breakfast, lunch, and dinner, he arrived right as food was being served and only stopped when the allotted time concluded. Fleur had witnessed him consume several servings that would normally fill multiple grown men.
She wouldn't call his eating habits disgusting. Jean demonstrated perfect table manners. He cut the food into tiny portions, chewed thoroughly, and continued with a steady pace. Only the quantity aspect of his consumption process concerned her. Fleur wondered if the young man had been starving at her home or if he had secret food hidden on him at all times to compensate when he had a less than satisfactory meal.
Even on the carriage ride to Hogwarts, Jean continued to eat in the dining area of their mobile home. They still had a few hours until their arrival, and he was on his third plate. Others glanced at him but went about their normal activities in the common area. They were reading, chatting, and playing games. A few tables stood at the opposite end of the chamber, near a collection of sofas. Soft, pale carpet squished beneath their feet. Lines of books hung from the shelves on walls painted with flowers swaying from an invisible wind. Outside the windows, the world around them rushed by as the pegasi directed them through the air.
Unlike her, Jean's new companion was not fascinated by the young man's eating habits. Instead, Aimeric was speaking to Jean about magical theory. Fleur respected Aimeric's work ethic. He was a tall man with short chestnut hair and thick glasses. The Head Boy of Beauxbatons often forgot to shave, leaving his handsome face with rough stubble. Besides Clair, he was probably her closest companion in school because her Allure had little pull on those who were not attracted to the fairer sex.
"And have you read about the new study in Prague?" Aimeric adjusted his glasses.
"You mean the magic well research?" Jean answered after swallowing his latest bite of stake. "I'm skeptical. Magic is too distinct. I find it hard to believe that all of the energy gathers in some sort of realm beyond our sight. It seems to me that it gathers in our bodies, using calories as support."
"Is that why you eat so much?" Fleur questioned him.
"Huh? Oh no. The brain simply uses far more calories than the rest of the body. I require all of this to be at my best," Jean finished his steak and pulled another plate closer to him.
"I don't know if he's calling us stupid or fat," Clair stuck her tongue out at Jean.
"You take comments very seriously," Jean noted. "It's more that I'm an overthinker compared to anything else."
"So, you prefer the centralized magic pool theory?" Aimeric continued as though the conversation hadn't been interrupted.
"What's that?" Clair inquired.
"The idea that magic is in itself an expression of an individual's soul," Jean shrugged before returning to his meal.
"I've heard about this one. Researchers think that magic is life in itself," Fleur watched in fascination as Jean consumed a slice of cake large enough that it would make her gain a few unwanted kilograms at her midsection. "All life radiates magic. Witches and wizards simply know how to concentrate it better than other species."
"I think the truth is a mixture of different things," Jean swallowed a bite of cake. "Magic is life, but our lives come from the planet. When we die, we give what we borrowed back to the Earth."
"That's…actually a beautiful thought," Fleur blinked.
"Well, I'm not a researcher," Jean shrugged after finishing his latest plate. "I only read and remember the papers sent to me by a…companion. I can promise you that I wouldn't get much done if I was in a silent lab all day doing experiments."
"Ah," Aimeric sighed. "That sounds amazing. Does Hogwarts have any Magical Theory courses? Madame Maxime never approved my request to add the course to the Beauxbaton curriculum."
"Not that I know of," Clair shrugged. "They have Advanced Arithmany, though."
"Magical Theory has become more of a university subject," Fleur noted.
"It's not for everyone," Jean agreed. "I hope you enjoy your life of studies. Personally, I need a bit of excitement in my life."
"I thought you were an overthinker," Clair teased him.
"Ah. Yes. but the things I overthink are more practical and personal than what one can read in a text book."
"Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above~ Don't fence me in~ Let me ride through the wide open country that I love~Don't fence me in!" Sadie Morgan sang. "Let me be by myself in the evenin' breeze~ And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees~ Send me off forever, but I ask you please~ Don't fence me in!"
All eyes in the bar turned as Sadie pushed open the front door. She slowly stepped through the entrance, singing and taking swigs from the beer bottle in her hand. Her cowboy boots clicked against the wooden floorboards. Curly auburn hair was covered by a brown ranching hat. Plaid robes rolled over her jean clad legs. The woman's pointed features were twisted in a delighted smile. A buzzed blush coated her freckled cheeks. Both of her dark eyes darted around the chamber.
Half of the large crowd waiting for the meeting grew tense at the sight of her. The other side glowered in annoyance. They were divided to separate sides of the dirty, wooden pub. She smiled at the sight. Finding fellow Guild members was easy. Sadie lazily strolled to an open seat in a booth, "Howdy, y'all! It's good to see ya, Phil!"
"My name's not Phil," the bald man muttered.
"It's not?!" Sadie laughed. "Ye're pulling my leg! Yer name's definitely Phil!"
"Loud American fool," a woman off to the side of the pub muttered. Every member of the Guild grew tense, but Sadie wasn't the type to be mad at those who had no idea who she was.
"I'm a walking stereotype!" Sadie took a swig of her drink. "What about ya, honey? Do ya buck the trends?"
"Don't speak to me," the Japanese woman huffed. She had long, raven hair rolling down to her back. Dark robes hid her form from view. Her features were as smooth and rigid as her posture.
"Fair enough," Sadie slid into her seat. "Oh damn. Am I early? I hate waiting. I thought they would be here by now."
"Luckily for you, we were just about to begin," a man in the corner sneered at her. Sadie had noticed him but hadn't recognized him as a threat. "All of the members of your Guild insisted zhat we wait until you arrived."
"Really? Ya'll insisted on waiting for little old me? How sweet!" Sadie wrapped an arm around the man she called Phil. "I didn't know ya liked me that much."
"More like we're terrified of you," Phil mumbled.
"Seriously? This woman?" the Japanese lady sneered.
"Ye're a bad judge of skill, huh? Cute. Ya must be new," Sadie mentioned. "Join the Guild, honey. Otherwise, ya won't last long."
"Enough. We've wasted enough time. My name is Denis Montange," Denis announced. He appeared as an older version of his son from Beauxbatons. Despite being French, he spoke English for the wide range of nationalities around him. "And I have a contract for you. Anyone who agrees will be paid half before the job and half after the mission is complete. You will accompany my assistant Octave to abduct a girl. Octave, if you would."
"Of course, Lord Montange," Octave stepped ahead of Montange. He was a portly fellow who was missing most of the hair on the top of his skull. With a wave of his wand, he conjured a picture of Fluer. Several men in the bar whistled at the sight of her. Even Sadie had to admit that the girl was a rare beauty.
"And what will be done to this girl after ya'll take her?" Sadie sipped her beer.
Montange sneered, "You will be using her as leverage against her father, the French Minister of Magic. He has married and reproduced with vermin. He pushes against the old ways and must be taught a lesson."
"Ah. I see. Ya'll are those types of people," Sadie lost her cheerful mood. This was the reality of the hitwizard line of work. Contracts like these appeared often. She refused to take them, but the Guild wasn't a community of moralists. If anyone in her group agreed to take the work, she would allow them to go. "And what's her protection?"
"Just a single boy," Montange laughed. "The Minister has lost his mind!"
Sadie shook her head, "Does the kid have a massive scar on his forehead?"
Montange nodded, "Indeed. How do you know?"
"Ha! I know because he's the number two member of the Guild!" Sadie stood. She was joined by every member of the Guild. "You can't pay us enough to go against Phobos!"
"You can't be serious," a burly Russian mercenary glared at her with dark, seedy eyes. "You must have seen what they're offering if you're here."
"People outside the Guild don't understand," Sadie decided to explain the situation to the newbies as her fellow guildmates stepped out through the front door. "This is why we usually have contracts go through the investigation team first, ya'll. But that money offer. Oof. Even we had to check it out, but Phobos is one of us. We don't take contracts against each other. That's the reason the Guild even exists. It's our one rule."
"A simple boy is one of the top members of your guild?" the Japanese woman shook her head. "Then, I don't see why I would ever want to join this shoddy guild of yours."
"For the record, lady, I'm number five. My codename is Gungslinger. Not as fancy as the others, but that's the American for ya," Sadie laughed at her own joke.
"Then your guild is a waste of time," the Russian hissed.
"Feel free to think that. If any of ya'll survive, remember to stop by," Sadie turned to face the door.
"One moment," Montange and Octave pointed their wands at her. "We can't let you inform zhis Phobos of what we're planning."
"No need for that. He won't hear a word about this from my lips," Sadie sipped her drink. "I wouldn't want to have to hurt ya'll. Put yer wands down. Pretty please."
"Hurt us?" Octave sneered. "How could you possibly-"
No one could follow her movements. Of course, that wasn't anything new for the Gunslinger. Sadie dropped her bottle. Her wand shot out of the holster on her wrist. She disarmed both of them before they could even blink. In a single motion, she sheathed her weapon, grabbed her bottle before it could fall to the floor, and snatched their wands out of the air.
The room grew silent and still. Everyone was tense. None of them had a chance of following her actions. Sadie casually tossed the wands behind her, away from the men, "Seriously? Ya see, ya'll. That's why the Guild organizes things like this. We in the top five are not meant to fight each other. Do ya know how many innocent people would die? It's just plain bad for business.
"And our numbers mean something. Sure. Between six and one hundred something. Not too big of a difference there. We don't allow just anyone in. But us in the top five? Well. That's a bigger deal. I could beat all of ya'll before ya knew ya were dead. Thoth's potions will kill ya after he takes a single sip. Lifebreather's army will overwhelm ya in a second. Phobos will make ya so terrified that yer heart will stop. And Norn…well, the Grand Weaver will cut ya into so many pieces that even yer mothers couldn't identify ya.
"So, take this job. Die. What do I care? It'll be just another day for Phobos, but don't ya blame me when ya find yourself in the pits of hell. Because I warned ya. And if any of ya do survive. Well. That means Phobos likes ya. And if Phobos likes ya, I'm sure we'll meet again. Don't know where~ Don't know when~ But I know we'll meet again some sunny day!"
Everyone watched in fear as Gunslinger lazily stepped out of the bar. Oddly enough, the woman pulled out a strange silver necklace from her pocket using her free hand and spun the chain around her index finger. She continued to joyfully sing as she left them behind her. Only when her voice faded away did they dare relax. That level of speed left them terrified. Sadie could have stunned half of them before they could even pull their wands out. The rest would have been defeated before they could unleash a spell. For a moment, they all reconsidered their decisions.
If Phobos was even half as capable as Gunslinger, they wouldn't stand a chance against him. They wondered if abandoning the meeting and applying for the Hitwizard Guild was a better idea. Before they could make a decision, Octave rushed to retrieve the lost wands. Montange cleared his voice, drawing their attention, "Well. considering that half of you are left, then that makes this easier. The amount of money I'm offering in total still stands, though, even without this foolish Guild involved. Anyone who will join us will be paid double."
Whispers spread throughout the remainder of the crowd. The amount of gold being offered could easily afford them an early retirement. While they feared Sadie, they assumed that she must have been embellishing the child's strength. There was no way that a boy could be more dangerous than the fastest duelist in the world. In fact, the Russian from earlier showed no fear, "Just one boy, nyet? And we will be planning around him? Pizdets. We don't even need to fight him. Just separate him from the girl."
"I agree with him," the Japanese woman nodded. "She must simply be looking out for her otouto or something. I will prove that this child is nothing. Then, I will automatically be ranked second in their Guild."
"Good," Montange grinned when the vast majority of the remaining mercenaries agreed to join the expedition. He had been afraid that he would lose them after that woman had sabotaged him. The pureblood would remember her face. Gunslinger from the Hitwizard Guild would be his next target, right after they secured Fleur Delacour.
"What did you need?" Fleur asked after Jean pulled her to the side. "We will be arriving soon."
"I know. We're about to enter enemy territory. Once we're off this carriage, you won't have your father's protection anymore," Jean reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of jewelry for her. "I need you to take this."
Fleur blinked as she lifted the object from his palm, "You're giving me a necklace like yours?"
"Yes," Jean pointed at the tiny cabinet in her hand. It was an exact duplicate of his. "You don't need to wear it around your neck, but you have to promise me that you will keep it with you at all times when you're not on this carriage."
"Why?" Fleur examined the silver locket.
"It will allow me to find you if anything bad happens," Jean insisted.
Fleur shrugged as she slipped the necklace into her pocket, "Very well. I suppose my bodyguard needs to be able to track me. Just don't go chasing me into the powder room."
Jean laughed, "You don't need to worry about that, Miss Delacour. Trust me. You'll be grateful for that thing soon enough."
"Why do you say that?" Fleur's eyes narrowed.
From his shoulder, Terror cawed. Jean's eyes sparkled in amusement, "Let's just say that I have a companion who keeps me up to date on pressing matters."
GreengrassRebel pointed out to me that I was mispelling Veela as Vella sometimes. I think I fixed that. If you find any such errors, please point them out to me.
Happy New Year. I hope your holidays were merry. Next chapter will be updated on January 9, 2026.