Chapter 3
Harry's first year at Beauxbatons passed largely without incident, after that. His unprecedented competence was offset by his absolute willingness to tutor his almost-peers, as he had no concern for maintaining the top spot in ‘his year’ and would happily help any student from any house who asked him for help. It became a common occurrence to see him with his entire year clustered around him in the library, as he patiently explained the latest lesson. Something about the way Harry connected with Magic enabled him to see where students were having problems and to help them figure it out. As a result, his entire year-group scored higher than expected, across the board, and the staff mostly stopped questioning it. If he knew the material well enough to teach it, what did they have to complain about?
It continued as Harry moved through Beauxbatons curriculum. Not only was his year-group still excelling, but the younger students sought counsel from students of Harry’s year, and his apparently-excellent tutoring was passed on to the younger years. Harry was so destined for teaching that the students he taught were excellent teachers in their own right. Beauxbatons was seeing some of the best scores they’d had in years. How could they begrudge his early admittance, when he was so clearly excelling? When he was leading others to excel? How could they be mad?
*****
The calm and acceptance lasted until Harry’s Sixth Year at Beauxbatons. That was the year chaos erupted. The announcement had been made during the previous year that the Three Schools were considering bringing back the Triwizard Tournament. They - as students - had talked about the Tournament, discussed the incredible risks and the minimal rewards, and Harry had been grateful to be “too young” to participate. He already had enough attention for being the Charms Apprentice, thank-you. He wanted absolutely ZERO involvement with this farce. And yet, his desires were not to be…
*****
“The Durmstrang Champion is Viktor Krum.”
Everyone applauded politely as the stocky Quidditch player went to stand in front of the Head Table, even though Fleur heard some disgruntled mutterings from the Slytherin/Durmstrang table. She shrugged to herself; obviously, those who were not chosen were unhappy. It wasn't her problem. She waited patiently to see who would be chosen from her school.
The fire flared red again, and Dumbledore grabbed the second piece of parchment.
“The Champion from Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour.” Fleur rose with quiet dignity, pleased to see her classmates reacting with composure, even though she knew several had dearly hoped to be chosen. As she crossed to join Krum in front of the professors, she saw the fire flare a third time.
“The Champion for Hogwarts is Cedric Diggory.” Dumbledore's statement was met with thunderous applause, whistles, cheers, and banging on tables. “Now, if the champions would be so kind…” he began to usher them toward a door at the back of the hall as the fire flared yet again. Dumbledore caught the paper and read it, a furrow creasing his brow.
“Harry Potter?” He sounded confused, if not slightly frustrated. It took a moment for Fleur to register his words.
“HARRY POTTER!”
*****
As a hush settled over the hall, only Fleur realised something was drastically wrong. She knew her little brother was also the one known as “The Boy Who Lived,” but she also knew he had every intention of staying as far away from this tournament as possible. He wasn't even in this country, so someone else had to enter his name, and she KNEW it wasn't with his permission.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
As Fleur whispered to her Patronus, a garbled mix of words she knew only her brother would understand, she prayed to any deity that was listening to help her keep her baby brother safe.
*****
Back at Beauxbatons, Harry was startled to receive his sister's Patronus. He knew she was on the short-list for Beauxbatons, and fully expected her to be chosen, but he expected to receive the news by letter. Then the words she was saying sunk in. She was using the hybrid dialect they had created as children, a mix of modern French, Veela language, ancient Greek, and was that Portuguese? That was new…
She was telling him that the name “Harry Potter” had come out of the Cup, but she knew he wasn't involved; she was worried for him, and he should expect to be called to Hogwarts. She was begging him to tell their parents so at least one of them could arrive with him. She didn't know what was going on, but she was terribly afraid for him, since someone entered him without his permission.
And as Harry conjured a Patronus to send to their mother, he prayed desperately that his sister was wrong.
*****
As his sister had predicted, he was summoned to Hogwarts. Apolline, having been warned by her two eldest children, had arrived with him. Harry wasted no time in declaring on his magic that he had not entered himself, nor asked anyone to do it for him. He denounced his entry and denied any involvement, backed by his mother and sister, but was ordered to compete nonetheless. Apolline had been devastated to realise she couldn't protect her son from this. She immediately took a leave of absence to be nearer to her children. Sadly, his undesired participation in the tournament would be the least of his problems that year…