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Returning to Sanity	By : AchillesTheGeek Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or films, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 74
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75 Returns from Rumours
Last time:
Friday 11 September
"I'm sure I'm very sorry, sir," the other replied.
"Indeed. Not as sorry as the four of you will be after serving detention tonight. Now, if Mr Corner will give you your wands back, you had best be off to Charms. And you can explain to Professor Goshawk that you were late because I was disciplining you."
"But-" the other Hufflepuff said, his eyes going wide; they had heard of Miranda Goshawk by reputation, and she was rumoured to be fiercer than McGonagall, "—she'll just give us another detention!"
"Then," Slughorn countered, "I'd rush."

As the eighth year students were making their way to the next classroom, four boys ran past them full pelt, obviously running very late for class. A few moments later, a first-year student, Slytherin by her robes, walked past them, a little more sedately, but still pushing the pace a little.
"Hey," Ron said, "isn't that that Abertothingy girl?"
"Alice Abertomom," Hermione supplied, in a tone that quite clearly implied a frustrated, unstated 'really!'.
"Yeah, her," Ron replied, completely ignoring the tone. He must be quite used to it by now, after all, Harry thought.
"Come on, guys," he said. "Don't want to be late for Professor Dreyfuss."
They continued on to Transfiguration. But the gossip had already started, about why four boys were running away from a tiny first-year student.

By lunchtime, rumours of the 'Abertomom incident' had gone through the school. Naturally, as tales will, it had grown in the telling; by the time it reached the eighth years, Marie Thibault, all breathless with excitement, told the story of how four students had tried to use a volley of curses against the first year, who had somehow managed to disarm them.
"I heard that some senior student Stupefied them," Parvati Patil said.
"That can't be right," her sister Padma rejoined. "They ran past us, being chased by her."
"Were they being chased?" Seamus asked. "Abertomom didn't seem to be in a hurry."
"True," Dean said. "So maybe there was a senior student?"
"'Ow exciting! So, who was he?" Angelique Delacour asked.
"I think it might have been Michael Corner,' Gabrielle Delacour answered. "I 'eard 'e was seen going into Professor Slughorn's office by some sixth years."
"Well, perhaps it was a shield, then," Seamus suggested. "He got quite good at them, I remember. What?" he asked, seeing the others looking at him rather oddly,
"Not perhaps the most diplomatic thing to say," Blaise said, inclining his head slightly towards Harry, "given what happened the last time he was involved with shields."
"Oh," Seamus said, and blushed red in embarrassment.
"It's all right," Harry reassured him, while pouring out pumpkin juice for Draco. "Actually, you're right, he was quite good. But I wouldn't pay the gossip any mind. You know these rumours are one part exaggeration and nine parts dragon shite."
Draco, who had unwisely sipped his drink as Harry was speaking, was so shocked and amused by this that he sprayed pumpkin juice all over the table.
"Sorry," he said.
"No bother," Harry said, his wandless Tergeo cleaning the table off without any apparent fuss.

After lunch, the examinees were excused from Muggle Studies, on the grounds that they would have plenty of time for their project once their exams were out of the way. Accordingly, the period became an impromptu study hall in the library, with Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick in attendance to offer any help required. Several students took advantage of this to ask transfiguration and charms questions, and it was not long before they were all having a discussion which was very serious and high-powered.
After perhaps half an hour, the Headmistress sat back and looked around at the students. They were a wonderful group: dedicated, studious, eager to learn. They were also, she decided, getting rather tired and wound up, and she thought that they needed a bit of relief.
"Right!" she said, clapping her hands. "Time for a little exercise. Do you all have a matchbox?"
In reply, the students all produced one of the matchboxes that she had given them in Transfiguration. Everyone except Mandy Brocklehurst still had one, but Draco had a spare and happily gave it to her.
"Excellent!" McGonagall said, all business-like, though she did not miss the small show of house unity. The Draco Malfoy of years before would have seen Brocklehurst either as entirely beneath him or a rival, and never have given her any help at all. "Now, I want you all to transfigure your matchboxes into pot plants."
The students thought for a moment. They had done something like this before; but it was not an easy assignment, and it took them a while to remember the incantations and get them right.
After ten minutes, everyone had managed to produce something; Zabini's daisy looked a bit worse for wear, it must be said, while Longbottom had managed to best of all, the small cactus he had produced being an inspired and difficult choice.
"Bravo!" Flitwick said, realising that McGonagall was trying to get them to lighten up a bit. "But some of your plants are a little drab. Let's see if you can Charm them a nice warm colour, and then, my personal favourite, get them tap-dancing!"
This was delivered with such enthusiasm that even Hermione found herself relaxing and grinning at the exuberance the man displayed. Within ten minutes, they had cracked it: Draco and Harry went so far as to have matching dancing sunflowers, one yellow, one orange, dancing and playing guitars that Harry had transfigured from a couple of elastic bands.
"Excellent!" Flitwick said once everyone had finished. "Now it is time to pack up and go to dinner."
As the students did so, Harry approached the two staff members. He had received a message by owl from Lucius and had a favour to ask…

The last class of the day was Ancient Runes. By some cunning scheduling, Professor Babbling had managed to adapt the syllabus so that the Seventh and Eighth Years could share the same classes, which meant that the three Ravenclaws were studying alongside Harry and Draco.
Eva Thillin had been hoping this might be good for some friction; but that hope had been severely dented during lunch, when Potter seemed to have closed down the gossip about Corner, and now it seemed that all was sweetness and light. Well, she decided, if he could close it down, she should open it up again. She turned to Rebecca Quiremesh, one of the other seventh-year Ravenclaws.
"What's eet like 'aving a conquering 'ero in your 'ouse?" she said quietly, adopting her most outrageous French accent.
"Oh!" the other girl replied. "Are you talking about this morning? I heard there was something going on. Just what happened?"
"We know so leetle," Danielle Thibault, sitting on the other side of the Ravenclaw, chimed in. "We were 'oping you could tell us…"
And the gossip was going again. Ten minutes later, Professor Babbling realised that the discussion in her class was not all productive, and reined them in. Eva didn't mind; the gossip was flowing again, that was all she wanted. If Potter had called them on it, the gossip would have stopped dead, but a teacher stomping on it, that would only drive it underground and it would spread further. Perfect.

By dinnertime the rumour had grown some more; if you believed what you heard, Corner had had to counter Dark Magic curses with a powerful Protego Maxima, and he had then bound the students with a full body-bind. Or otherwise, he had used Dark Magic on them, and Slughorn had chewed him out about it.
Harry listened to this recitation and decided he didn't believe a word of it,
"Hey, Michael!" he called over to the Ravenclaw table, and Michael Corner's head went up. Harry signaled to him to come over, and, rather surprised but not unhappy at the invitation, he did so.
"So," Harry said, as Corner took a seat next to him, "I hear you cast some powerful magic this morning?"
"No!" Michael replied, laughing. "What are they saying about me?"
The others explained the tales as they had heard them, and as he listened, Corner became visibly more and more amused; by the time they finished, he was roaring with laughter.
"Dark curses my foot!" he said once he had got his amusement under control. "One of them cast a tripping jinx. And all I did was to take a leaf out of your book," he said to Harry, "and cast Expelliarmus. Then Professor Slughorn came by, and he cast a Prior Incantato which proved they'd done it. That was all."
"But it was well done," Harry replied. "The Slytherins shouldn't be targeted like that."
"I agree," Michael replied. "Sluggers and I had a little chat about it, and he's going to make sure the staff keep a very watchful eye on the pranking from now on."
"Thank you," Draco said, and Michael was astonished to hear the genuine gratitude in his voice. His face must have shown it, for the blond continued, "I mean it. Harry and I are proof of what we can achieve if we can keep away from the prejudice."
Draco's words and attitude made everything in Michael Corner's world shift. He had examined the Eighth Years from every angle, looked to see who was getting what from who, what the benefits and rewards were, and suddenly he realised that he had been cold and calculating and missed the obvious: that his year-group, these people, weren't out to benefit from one another; they were friends, and lovers, and just getting on with life. Even the Slytherins, he realised, seemed to be embracing this new way.
And at the centre of it all was Harry Potter. And Harry Potter had invited him over. Perhaps he could yet have a place in this group.
Michael Corner smiled.

As Harry and Michael continued to discuss the events of the past week, Anders Anderssen and Stefan Ivanov were having a private conference of their own. For privacy, they were conversing in German; but while that meant they were proof against the Beauxbatons girls eavesdropping, it was something of a giveaway that they were discussing things they wanted kept secret, which naturally excited Ivan Smetana's interest.
"All right, boys" their chaperone said in German as he sidled over to them, "what's it all about?"
"We have heard some other rumours, sir," Ivanov replied.
"Rumours about Draco Malfoy and the Granger girl," Anderssen added.
"What rumours?" the chaperone asked, and continued, his tone incredulous, "like they're sleeping together or something?"
Anderssen looked very sheepish as he heard this, and Smetana gave a low whistle.
"That can't be true," he said. "The Debt Draco is under wouldn't allow it. Just what have people been saying?"
The other two told him the rumours they had heard, about the two students being seen in the Common Room, and Draco going up to Hermione's room, and the suspicions that she was pregnant, Smetana sat back and thought for a minute.
"Say nothing about this to anyone," he counselled, adopting a calm, in-charge tone. "I will deal with it."
But Igor Karkaroff was worried. He had been Headmaster of a school for many years; he knew the feel of a real organic rumour, which the story about Corner definitely had; but this story, about Draco and Hermione, wasn't the same. No, this felt contrived. Someone, he was sure, was making mischief. Someone, he suspected, who was sitting at this table, and should have been sent back to France weeks ago.
And someone who, unknown to Igor Karkaroff, spoke quite passable German.

Eva Thillin was not smiling.
Potter had done the worst possible thing: he and Corner were clearly no longer at odds; inexplicably, the Ravenclaw seemed to have found his way back into favour. All her hard work to cause suspicion with rumours was having the opposite effect to the one she wanted: uniting, instead of dividing. It was very annoying that all her hard work seemed to be getting her exactly nowhere. And, she thought, dangerous. She felt her position was precarious, and that her best strategy was to keep people looking elsewhere; but she was running out of distractions to throw in people's eyes.
And the conversation she had just overheard had her worried. The students gossiping about one another was a fact of life, and mostly the teachers would never hear about it; but it seemed that the little maybe-truths she had spread about Draco and Hermione had reached Smetana's ears. And Eva Thillin did not trust Ivan Smetana. She was a master manipulator, and she felt she recognised a kindred spirit in him.
No, he was Trouble, with a capital T. She could see all her plans teetering around her. She needed to get out, and she needed to get out fast. Which meant she needed a place to go. At the moment, she really had only one possibility; she just hoped the men from Marseille would get back to her soon…

Eva's thoughts were interrupted by the approach of Professor Flitwick, who came and hovered at the end of their table.
"If I may have your attention!" the Professor began, and all eyes at the table turned to him. "As you are aware, nine of you have examinations next week, while the rest will be having revision sessions. After these, there will be a two-week holiday break. Those who are having revision, there is no need for you to attend classes if you do not wish to; there will be no formal teaching, but your professors will be available to answer any questions."
Most of the students looked very pleased and relieved to hear this, delighted that they would have a more relaxed week before the two week break coming up.
"For the examinees, we will be posting a timetable on Sunday evening. The examinations will be held in the meeting room adjacent to the staff room, so that staff will be on hand to ensure all is well. Good luck to you all in your exams. And please, I beg you, do not exhaust yourselves before Monday! In fact, I insist that you all leave the castle on Sunday afternoon. Go and visit friends or family, and take a few hours to not think about work."
It was clear that eight of the nine examinees thought this was a brilliant idea; Flitwick could see that Hermione was not convinced, so continued, "after dinner on Sunday you can put in four good hours of study, but you need a break before it. If you study all the time, you won't perform as well in your practicals. Now, of course you may do some study this evening, but I suggest you knock off at nine o'clock and play games."
The others all looked to Hermione. They all liked the sound of it; but what would their hard study taskmaster have to say about it?
Hermione nodded slowly. There was, she realised, some truth to the idea that too much thinking was not necessarily good for the practicals. Her mind wandered back to the time at her parents' house when Draco had taught Ron and her the spells to renovate, and hers had not been as good as Ron's because she was trying to understand what should really be just experienced.
"All right," she said with a sigh. "I think that's a good idea."

Saturday 12 September
On Saturday morning, Harry received an owl, asking him to visit Robin in the Defense Professor's study at ten o'clock. To his surprise, when he got there, there was another man waiting for him; but, before he could excuse himself, Ivan Smetana got to his feet.
"Mr Potter," he said, reaching out a hand. "I wanted to have a word with you, and I did not wish certain people to know about it, so I borrowed Professor Banks's office."
Harry looked at him carefully.
"I know who you are," he said.
"Yes, yes," the Durmstrang chaperone replied, as his glamour fell off him and Igor Karkaroff stood there. "Good. I won't have to explain, then. But I do wish to be your friend, Mr Potter."
Harry shook the hand, a touch reluctantly, feeling it would be rude not to. and sat down.
"You seem to have changed your mind since my fourth year," he said. "Though I suppose it must be real, if Robin trusts you enough to let you use the office and see me without him."
Karkaroff stared at him, then remembered the events of the Triwizard Tournament. He smiled.
"I have, rather, changed my mind," he replied. "Many did after the first war, you know. Then, I was terrified of the Dark Lord returning. I knew he was still alive; Mr Weasley has shown you the map, I believe" - Harry nodded in reply – "and he may have told you I performed the ritual once before, after you killed him the first time, and I found him straddling the line between our sphere and the Sphere of Intangible Presence, and knew he was just waiting for some way to return. So the whole time I was worried that he was going to use the Tournament in some way; and, as you know better than anyone, he did so."
"That's true," Harry said slowly.
"Then I was pursued by Death Eaters; but I think you know the story of how I evaded them?"
Harry nodded.
"And how I met up with Mr Weasley?"
Another nod.
"But perhaps he did not tell you what happened after that. We stayed in a hotel in rural Egypt – well, an establishment, anyway, it wasn't like any other hotel I have ever been in or heard of! The owner treated us like family, not like paying guests. Everyone sat around the fire and talked like old friends. I learned something that night, Mr Potter. All my life, I had been taught to be cold and to hold myself aloof; that is how I taught, and how I acted as Headmaster. But those Arabs showed me another way. A way of belonging, of tolerance, of kindness. One which would encourage my students to be the best they could be, without judging them for what they could not be. And I found that, as they treated me like that, I wanted to learn. And I wanted to teach like that, and maybe, just maybe, we can avoid Durmstrang producing another Grindelwald, or Hogwarts another Voldemort."
Harry grinned. "OK," he said. "I'm really glad to hear that."
"Good," Karkaroff said, with a grin of his own. "But I fear the rest of what I have to say will not make you so happy. You see, there are rumours…"
And here Karkaroff went on to detail just what he had heard about the rumours being spread about Draco and Hermione. He was careful to keep his voice calm and gentle; perhaps he had expected disbelief, or anger, or justifications. He got none of these things. Instead, to his complete surprise, Harry put his head back and roared with laughter.
"Oh dear," the raven-haired boy said when he had calmed down a little. "I am sorry. But Draco and Hermione? Really? Surely you can see that they wouldn't last a day together."
Karkaroff considered this. But of course, Harry was right. They were just too similar. As friends, with other friends to give balance, they could support each other, but as a couple, they would forever be antagonising each other, needing someone to play umpire.
"You're right," he confessed, a soft smile on his face as he thought about what it would be like if they were together. "Yes, I see. It is absurd."
"All right," Harry said, "but it's still out there as a rumour. And neither of them needs it to blow up, especially now that we have exams coming up. How do we counter it?"
"Ah," said Karkaroff, "first I think we must identify the source."
"It has to be Eva, really, doesn't it," Harry replied.
"You are very smart, Mr Potter," Karkaroff said in response, clearly impressed. "Yes, I think it is her. And if so, she is trying to shift attention away from her; so we must put it back on her."
"Good point," Harry replied. "But how?"
"Ah," said the older man with a sly smile, "I think I have an idea…"

The Headmistress was delighted to have morning tea with Harry, and, though she was in truth a little surprised when Ivan Smetana turned up as well, managed to hide it well and warmly welcomed them both into her office.
"Now," she said, once Harry had a steaming mug of tea and Karkaroff an equally hot coffee, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
"Ah," Harry began, "well, Mr Smetana here, or perhaps I should say Karkaroff?"
"It's OK, Harry," the other man replied, dropping his glamour. "I don't think I should keep it a secret from you two; but I hope it won't go any further just yet."
"Of course," McGonagall agreed. "I'd much prefer if it did not become public while you are here. We do not officially know anything about it, and it will be easier if it stays that way. While I'm quite sure you won't do anything stupid, there are still a lot of people who are not happy about former Death Eaters, and the fact that you appear to have cheated death will seem suspicious. Just how was it managed, if I may ask?"
Karkaroff told the story of the crofter who sacrificed himself for the stranger once again, and the Headmistress looked quite proud, which surprised Harry until he realised that of course the crofter, like McGonagall, was Scottish.
"Right," Harry said, once the story was told, deciding to get them back on track. "Mr Smetana came up with an idea to help us combat the rumours that are flying around."
"Which rumours are these?" McGonagall asked. "The ones about Mr Corner?"
"Yes, and those about Draco and Hermione," Harry said, then filled her in about them.
The Headmistress closed her eyes and shook her head in a clear gesture of disapproval and disappointment. "Shocking," she said, her eyes now open and hard as flint. Harry was a little worried at this; surely she didn't really think it could be true?
"Gossip is a terrible thing," she said, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "It's no-one's business, anyway." She looked at the Durmstrang chaperone. "What do you suggest?"
"I suggest that it would be good for the student body to get to know the exchange students better. So perhaps we could invite them to give a five-minute speech about who they are and what their school is like."
McGonagall smiled. "I like it," she said, "And of course we'd get the students up in a random order."
"Of course," Karkaroff replied. "So if any particular student happened to come first …"
"That would just be the luck of the draw," McGonagall said, and a look of perfect understanding flashed between them.

After dinner, there was a meeting in the Ravenclaw common room.
"Right, everyone, listen up," Michael Corner said.
"Why should we listen to you?" Evan Eranthus, one of Alice Abertomom's attackers, demanded. This, it turned out, was a bad move.
"Because I have asked him to talk to you," a piping voice said, and Professor Flitwick entered the room. "And because you are a Ravenclaw, and value learning, and Mr Corner is ahead of you, and you might learn something from him."
"Thank you, Professor," Corner said, his gratitude for the interruption tempered by his determination to fight his own battles. "I know we've all heard rumours about the eighth year students, and how Draco Malfoy is the evil super-villain, two-timing Harry Potter and seducing Hermione Granger. Well, I was part of their cohort at the beginning, and I've watched them closely for a while; and I can tell you for certain that that is one hundred per cent" - and here, Corner seemed to take stock of the Professor's presence, and stuttered, changing his wording in mid flow – "Leprechaun gold. Potter and Malfoy are bonded over a Debt of Magical Emancipation; there's no way Malfoy could be unfaithful to that, it would kill him. And Granger and Weasley only have eyes for each other."
"Is this true? The Debt means Malfoy can't cheat?" someone asked.
"It is," Flitwick replied. "I have some books here…"
He didn't get any further as the Ravenclaws descended on the books. Within half an hour, they had all satisfied themselves that Corner was correct.
"OK," Eranthus said with obvious chagrin, "I get it. We were totally wrong about things."
"More than that," Corner said. "Think about this: the war is over; Harry Potter had his childhood stolen from him by a madman who kept trying to kill him, and gave up his last year of schooling, and risked death so we could win it. And when we attack the Slytherins, it's like we're spitting in his face. We're starting it all up again. It's time to put the divisions aside and be united as Hogwarts, celebrating one another, like Potter applauded Abertomom at the Welcoming Feast, So, no more attacking Slytherin students just because they belong to the house of the snake; and no more listening to gossip and passing it along uncritically. Are we all agreed?"
The motion, for in that scholastic house that is how they thought of such things, was carried by acclamation. Flitwick beamed.
"I believe, Mr Corner, you have earned this."
And, so saying, he handed a Prefect's badge to a gob smacked Michael Corner.
Sunday 13 September
As the eighth years were sitting at lunch on Sunday, Flitwick came up to them and addressed the students who were sitting the Aptitude tests during the next few days.
"Now," he said in his most solemn voice, "I know that we have discussed this, but you have been studying like mad and have no doubt forgotten. Now is the time for you to go away and do something else for a few hours. I don't want to find any of you studying between now and five o'clock. Is that clear?"
The examinees all nodded.
"Perfect!" he said. "Now, as always, I would like to know where you are going, so we can get in touch with you if necessary."
"Hermione and I will be visiting mum and dad," Ron said at once, and Hermione smiled her assent. Flitwick did not miss the smile, and was glad to see it. He had been a little worried about Hermione; she had a formidable intellect, but he felt she needed to lighten up. Going off with Ron without complaint would have been good; that she actually looked happy was excellent.
"Very good!" he squeaked. "Mr Longbottom?"
"I shall be visiting my husband for the afternoon," Neville replied. There were some sniggers from the Beauxbatons girls, but he just turned to them and faced them down. Harry was impressed; Neville had really come into himself.
"Good, good," Flitwick burbled on. "Miss Brockelhurst?"
"Off to spend the afternoon with my family," the Ravenclaw answered promptly.
"And I'm doing much the same," Lisa Turpin added.
Flitwick smiled at them, and continued, "Miss Parkinson?"
"Theo is back in St Mungo's, so Blaise, Draco and I are going to visit him," Pansy replied.
"Oh!" Flitwick said, with evident surprise. "Are you not accompanying your fiancé, Mr Potter?"
"No," Harry said, his voice sounding surprised that it would be an issue. "Draco is a grown wizard and he doesn't need me to babysit him all the time. I'm sure he'll be safe at St Mungo's."
"But …" Marie Thibault began, and all eyes turned to her. "I mean," she said, blushing bright red under the onslaught of the gazes of all her peers, "I heard … aren't you worried for his safety?"
Harry was quite sure that that was not what she had wanted to say; but answered anyway.
"Of course I'm worried for his safety. We both know there are still people out there who would love to see us hurt. But we refuse to live our lives in fear. And I know what the rumours are. There's no way Draco is unfaithful to me; to begin with, he couldn't because of the Debt he owes me; but now, we love each other. And that demands that we trust each other."
"Bravo, Mr Potter!" Flitwick responded. "And what will you be doing this afternoon?"
"Oh, well, as we discussed, there is a small matter I have to attend to with my future father-in-law; and then I will meet these three at St Mungo's, and I was thinking we might all meet up at Fortescue's for a last ice-cream before the exams?"
In the event, Mandy and Lisa cried off this meeting, but the others had a perfectly delightful afternoon tea before Flooing back to Hogwarts from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"I thought you had exams next week," Dudley said in surprise when Harry came into his room at Malfoy Manor.
"Yeah I do," Harry replied. "But I wasn't going to miss seeing you set up for University, now, was I?"
"Wow," Dudley said. What else could he say? The generosity of his cousin continued to amaze him.
"Harry, how lovely to see you," Narcissa said as she wandered in and greeted her second son with a kiss on the cheek. "Now, Dudley, have you packed everything you need?"
"Um, yeah," Dudley said, looking around. There was, to his chagrin, quite a bit of stuff still in the room, but he wouldn't need it during term time. "I'll get Kreacher to take this stuff back to Grimmauld Place," and here he looked at Harry, "if that's all right?"
"There's no need," Narcissa replied. "It can stay here, no-one will touch it."
"Are you sure?" Dudley asked timorously. "I don't want to put you to any trouble, and you might need the room…"
"Dudley," Narcissa said, her tone both fond and exasperated, "you are practically family now, and we have plenty of rooms at the Manor. It is no trouble to reserve this one for you. You are most welcome to use it whenever you wish. Now, I do believe you should be going."
Dudley had expected a long drive; but of course with Harry, they simply Apparated, car and all. To just outside Swansea; so it was that an hour later, Dudley was installed in his room at the University Hall.
"Very nice," Harry said, as Dudley set up his PC. "Now, is there anything else you need? Lucius sorted out spending money and all that? He said he was going to give you the same as Draco got at Hogwarts. Will that be enough?"
"Um, yeah, more than enough," Dudley replied, rather choking in surprise. "He gave me this," and showed off his cash card. "Apparently, Draco got twenty of your coins – galleons, are they?" – Harry nodded – " and Gringotts will be putting the same amount in each week. Harry, it's a lot of money! I thought that would be to pay for everything, but then he paid the board and all fees as well. So it's a fortune!"
"Cool," Harry said with a grin. "Well, I need to get moving, but I'm sure I'll see you around; are you coming to the wedding?"
Dudley smiled at him. "Wouldn't miss it," he replied. "Now, can I drop you anywhere?"
"Nah," Harry replied. "I'll just find a deserted corner and Apparate away. Stay safe, Big D!"
"You too, Harry," Dudley said.
Dudley was still grinning an hour later when the students in neighbouring rooms came over to introduce themselves. It didn't take him long to get into the swing of things; the evening found him as part of a group of about a dozen students visiting a local tavern. It was a riot – cheap alcohol, loud music, lights and noise; just what this week, Freshers week, was all about. Of course, the drinks were probably watered down; but as most of the students were clearly on their beam ends, price was a critical factor. He wandered up to the bar to pay for a round of drinks; but was waved aside by one of the other male students, Roger or something, who had been to Eton, apparently, but "didn't want to go to Oxford because it's just so old hat," which Dudley was pretty sure meant that he didn't get offered a place.
"It's all right," Roger or Robert or whatever said. "Daddy's giving me a hundred a week to splurge, and an extra two hundred for Freshers week festivities, so I'll pay."
"Thanks very much," Dudley said, putting his wallet away. He decided to keep quiet about his own allowance; if the snotty-nosed brat from Eton thought three hundred pounds was a lot, let him brag. Dudley didn't need the sort of friends that attitude would attract. There was really no need to let everyone know he was getting five hundred pounds each and every week.

"Girls! Attention, s'il-vous plait!" Madame Dubois said in her brightest tones. Eva Thillin was immediately deeply suspicious. She had been concerned when a Beauxbatons-only meeting had been called for two o'clock; and, hearing the woman begin, that concern increased greatly. The Beauxbatons Deputy Headmistress was at her most dangerous when she used that particular voice.
When all eyes turned to her, Madame Dubois continued in French.
"Now, I have asked you here because Headmistress McGonagall has had a brilliant idea; each evening during dinners over the next week, two of you are each to be given five minutes to introduce yourselves to the whole school! Here is a wonderful opportunity for you to present yourselves, and Beauxbatons, in a favourable light! I hope you will all give careful consideration to what you will say."
Thillin felt like someone had sent a stunner to her solar plexus. She was desperate to stay in the shadows; this was being put in the spotlight with a vengeance. She dared not draw attention to herself, even here; but she was dying to know …
"Excuse me, Madame," Marie Thibault, sitting at the opposite end of the room, asked, "but do we know when we will be presenting?"
Eva inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that the question had been asked, and she didn't have to try to find out by sneaking or prying. But her relief was short-lived.
"Oh no, it will be a big surprise for us. So you will need to be ready to be called upon at any evening meal."
Eva could not stop the groan that left her involuntarily; but it didn't matter as all the girls did the same thing, so no-one guessed that she was not only nervous about public speaking. The men from Marseille had to pull through soon; she needed to get out of here. Fast.

At dinner, the undercurrent of furtive gossip that seemed to have undergirded meals at Hogwarts for the last week was conspicuous by its absence. In its place, there seemed to be a general air of fun and frivolity.
"Everyone seems very 'appy tonight?" Eva observed as the main course was cleared away, wondering what was going on.
"Oh," Neville said, "some people have been saying daft things about Harry and Draco and Hermione, and it stirred up quite a bit of tension amongst the students. But rumour has it that Michael Corner had a word to the Ravenclaw students about it, and it's spread through the school, as rumours always do, so now everyone in the school knows that it's all nonsense and we'll all get on with studying instead."
Thillin was going to press for more details, but she was forestalled by the Hogwarts headmistress rising to her feet.
"Ladies and gentlemen, students," McGonagall began, and the Hall quietened as people realised she was actually expecting them to listen.
"As you know, Hogwarts is being visited by a few students from the Durmstrang Institute and the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. The staff feel it would be remiss of us not to take the opportunity to get to know these young people better, and to see what we can learn from the different schools. So we shall be giving our visitors five minutes each to introduce themselves and explain a little of their different experiences in the two schools they have now experienced."
The first Beauxbatons student called upon to speak was Padma Patil. The small Indian girl gave a charming little speech about how wonderful it was to have experienced both schools, and refused to be drawn on which was better, stating only that her life was the richer for learning in two different systems. It made Eva want to vomit, it was so sickly sweet; and anyway the Patil twins had only been at Beauxbatons for a fortnight before coming back to Hogwarts, it was not like they'd really learnt anything.
Eva found herself feeling sick for an entirely different reason when the second name was called out.
"Thank you, Padma, that was most interesting. And now," Headmistress McGonagall said in her no-nonsense tones, "we shall have the pleasure of hearing from … Eva Thillin!"
Eva got up to speak, her throat dry. She took a sip of water in a vain attempt to try and calm her nerves. Here it was then; after all her scheming, all the careful tending of rumours, she had achieved nothing at all. Instead of the shadows, she was in the limelight. And she hated and feared it in equal parts.
"Zank you so much for ze invitation to speak," she began, and then something in her took over, and all she could remember was sitting down later to polite applause from everyone in the Hall.
She had to get out of this place. She just had to.
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Returning to Sanity