Champions

Exposé

On Monday evening after the break ended, Harry and Fleur found themselves ascending the stairs to Dumbledore's office yet again. They were summoned in the middle of dinner – both of them this time, oddly enough – and weren't thrilled about it. The old man was probably trying to meddle again, and they had better things to do than deal with him.

The day had gone surprisingly well, and much as it hurt, Harry found that Ron's absence was actually a good thing for him. Hermione was so angry that she went to McGonagall, and to hear Hermione tell it, the woman had outright exploded. Ron was therefore suspended for two weeks, making for a much more pleasant environment at meals.

Gone were the arguments between Ron and Hermione. Gone were the yelps when she kicked him in the shins. Gone were the jealous stares that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. And, perhaps most importantly, there was no longer anyone leering at his wife from across the table.

All in all, despite his initial pain over the loss of his first friend, he was beginning to think it was actually a good thing, and probably should have happened a long time ago.

Even his classes were better. Always before, Ron spent most of every period distracting Harry from his schoolwork. Now he finished in record time; he'd learned to work hard to make up for Ron's short attention span, and he could now accomplish twice as much. Given his concerns over meeting the scholastic expectations that Sebastian set out for him, it made for much less stress.

Frighteningly enough, his grades were already nearing — and occasionally even outstripping — Hermione's at this point, and this would only push them to new heights. What was surprising, though, was the way she was taking it. Where he worried that she might be offended, she was instead very supportive, and frequently asserted that she always knew he was smarter than he acted.

Of course, he'd never told her why he was holding back, and it made him wonder if he ever would. If anyone apart from Fleur deserved to know the truth, it was Hermione – she'd stood by him through thick and thin for four years running – but it was still hard to talk about. He made a mental note to sit her down someday and tell her everything, though he wasn't sure when that would be.

First he had to deal with a meddling Headmaster who was getting on his last nerve.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Oui," sighed Fleur. "Let us get zis over wiz."

Harry snorted – when it was it ever over? – and offered his free arm to Fawkes, who immediately hopped down off his shoulder. He had the sneaking suspicion that the phoenix knew exactly what he was being used for, and wholeheartedly approved. It would gall Dumbledore to see Fawkes with him, but that was a good thing as far as he was concerned.

As ever, the man invited them in before they could knock, and Harry examined the office with a critical eye as they entered, making sure to avoid the old man's gaze. Apart from the absence of a certain perch, nothing ever seemed to change. The portraits pretended to snooze in their frames; the sword of Gryffindor gleamed in the torchlight in its case; and a multitude of odd contraptions clicked and whirred, creating an atmosphere like some kind of bizarre laboratory.

This time, however, there was a new addition in the form of Madame Maxime.

He exchanged a bemused glance with Fleur when he spotted her. Numerous scenarios that might require the woman's presence flashed through his mind, but none of them made any sense. Besides, it wasn't very likely that she would come down on Dumbledore's side of their little feud...

She sat facing them in a plush armchair to the side of the Headmaster's desk, calmly sipping dark red liquid out of an elegant crystal glass. Her enormous form positively dwarfed the Headmaster; had Harry not known better, he would have assumed that she was in charge. She was perfectly at ease, even if she did appear somewhat confused.