The Unbearable Lightness

of

Fleur Delacour

by

Heather Sinclair

Viceverza1@yahoo.com

Spoilers: Goblet of Fire - AU at the end of the Third Task of the TWT

Pairings: Harry/Fleur

Rating: R requires the presence of a Parent or GuardianThis story is specifically designed to be viewed by adults and therefore may be unsuitable for minors under 17. This story contains one or more of the following: graphic violence, explicit sexual activity, or

crude indecent language.

Disclaimer: This story, and any content relating to the Harry Potter franchise is not authorized by J.K. Rowling, or Scholastic Press. I own my computer ...

Author's Note: I'm trying for something original here if you see any glaring clichés please let me know. This story is meant as a pallet cleanser for my current three stories so I will be adding chapters at an inconsistent rate, but I really like the plot and I will be taking this on a regular basis after one of the other three is finished. Thanks for any comments or critiques you may have.

Chapter One

The Portkey

Fleur was going to get there first. Fleur was sprinting as fast as she could toward the cup, and Harry knew he would never catch her. Then Harry saw something immense over a hedge to his left and he knew that she hadn't.

"Fleur!" Harry bellowed. "On your left!"

Fleur looked around just in time hurl herself past the thing and avoid colliding with it, but in her haste, she tripped. Harry saw her wand fly out of her hand as a gigantic spider stepped into the path and began to bear down upon Fleur.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled; the spell hit the spider's gigantic, bulbous head covered with dozens of black glassy eyes and he watched as it dropped to the ground, stunned.

Fleur spun around and scrambled for her wand and once she held it she swung around and brought it to bear on the stunned spider.

"How?" she sputtered in exhaustion.

Harry's wand hand dropped to his side in defeat. The cup was only steps away from his competitor. "Go on, take it."

Fleur turned her head and saw the Triwizard Cup and more glory than Beauxbatons had seen in decades only two steps away. She turned back to Harry and then back to the cup once more.

"Putain!" Fleur cursed at the ground.

Harry didn't know much French. In fact the only word in the French language did know was 'yes'.

"Oui?" he responded warily.

Fleur looked back up meeting his eyes and stared at him as if he were insane. "You do not understand what is being said, yes?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Uh … oui."

Fleur's eyes lit up and for the first time that Harry had ever seen the French teen laughed. Her hand came to her mouth in a vain holding of mirth, but eventually she stopped and kept her smile.

"Zee cup, it is yours."

It was Harry's turn to look confused. "You were here first, Fleur. Take it."

Her eyes narrowed with deviousness. "Very well, Harry."

She turned her back to him, pointed her wand at her right hand and whispered. "Collantar!"

"But first, a reward for zee gallant gentleman, no?"

She holstered her wand and stepped forward meeting Harry eye to eye. It was the first time he really noticed that they were the same height however he didn't really notice it for too long before Fleur's lips were on his in a chaste kiss.

Fleur's Veela charm broke through his brain and it felt like he was at the Quidditch World Cup once more except this time there were lips involved, female lips, and his lips. Before his rational thoughts entirely slipped away she pulled back and he noticed as an afterthought that she was holding his hand.

"Sorry," he said and tried to pull back only to notice that their hands were stuck together, her right in his left. He looked back up at her face and saw a devilish smirk on her lips.

"I suppose we will have to take zee cup togezzer."

"But …"

The imperial gaze that he had come to associate with Fleur returned to her face.

"Harry, I will insist that we take zis cup togezzer. If you had played to win you would have let zee Acromantula have me. Instead you chose to be noble, as you had in zee second task."

He looked down in slight embarrassment as Fleur continued.

"I was mistaken when we first met in thinking that you would have entered you name into zee Goblet of Fire. I wish to share zis victory with you to make amends. I want zis, Harry, and Fleur Delacour always will get what she wants."

Harry looked back up at her determined face. She squeezed his hand. "Now take a hold of zis cup!"

When they both reached the cup they each held out a hand over its gleaming handles.

"On three," Harry suggested.

With a nod of approval he started.

"One - two - three -"

They each grabbed a hold of a handle and Harry felt a pull from somewhere behind his navel. His feet left the ground and he could not release the grip he had on the cup. It was then that he realized that the cup was a Portkey.

~0~

The resurrection of Voldemort left Fleur in a trembling heap tied to a tombstone as she watched her Triwizard companion duel the darkest of wizards while his dark acolytes viewed the inevitable death of Harry Potter.

Except something happened that nobody had expected: Harry had beaten Voldemort's Imperious Curse, he had survived Voldemort's Cruciatus Curse, and he was currently surviving Voldemort's Killing Curse.

A golden beam of light connected the two wands and thousands of golden threads of light created a dome of sorts encasing the two duelers in what appeared to be a battle of wills.

It was only when the Death Eater that was guarding her stepped forward in astounded interest that Fleur realized that her chance to escape had brought itself to bear. Landing on the wet grass earlier provided her made her arms slippery enough for her to wiggle her way underneath the snug ropes that held her to the tombstone. In a minute she was free and kneeling behind the guard eyeing his wand held loosely in his left hand.

A burst of light washed over the entire area and she took her chance snapping up the Death Eater's wand and stunning him a second later. She reached inside his robes and fumbled for only a moment before finding her own rosewood wand.

She held it up in triumph only to look up and see Harry dashing between tombstones toward her.

"The girl is free!" a Death Eater yelled.

Another that was standing only feet away from him sent a green jet of light at her the same second Harry slammed into her side knocking her away.

They tumbled for only a moment before Harry tightened his arm around her middle and snapped his wand forward. "Accio cup!"

~0~

July 3

Harry Potter sat in the smallest bedroom of his aunt and uncle's house staring out the window to the sickly lime green grass below. It had been one of the hottest summers in memory and with water rationing in effect throughout Little Whinging the one positive effect it had was that Harry had very little gardening to do.

With the onset of the heat of the summer Harry also spent as little time inside as humanly possible. The heat made the air conditioning run more which resulted in higher utility bills. This in turn resulted in Vernon yelling and insisting the thermostat be set at an almost ungodly temperature, which resulted with Petunia finding relief in the London shops during the day, and Dudley at any number of his friend's houses.

This left Harry sweating profusely inside after the noon hour. A small albeit warm breeze wafted through the open window and he took advantage of the opportunity, donned one of Dudley's cast-off t-shirts and headed out to the local park to find some shade under a tree and enjoy what little breeze there was before Vernon returned the house to a somewhat livable temperature when he got home from work.

Harry grabbed a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator and made for the front door to escape the unbearable heat from the indoors in favor of the outdoors' sweltering heat.  When his hand fell atop the knob to the front door he heard a resounding Crack!

He froze in place and after a second thought dropped low and to the side so that he could glance out the front window. Taking a quick glance he didn't see anyone directly in front of the house, but as he shifted to a different angle a figure stepped from the side of the house and briskly walked toward the front door. The angle of the shear window cover made it impossible to discern any distinguishing features.

Then a sound came that Harry wasn't expecting if a major Death Eater attack were to occur at his home, a knock at the front door. He withdrew his wand for safety's sake and crept soundlessly to the peephole and peered warily through.

Fleur?

Harry grabbed the knob and twisted, opening the door to find his former Triwizard companion standing a few feet from the door wearing a dark blue skirt and a white tank top with her silvery blonde hair twisted up into a ponytail.

"Merde Harry, what are you wearing?" Fleur offered in greeting.

A small smile lit upon Harry's face. "And hello to you too, Fleur."

She stepped forward and grasped his shoulders turning him around.

"What iz zis, some kind of Muggle fashion statement?" She tutted in disapproval as she saw Harry's faded jeans hanging down halfway to his knees. "No, zis will not do at all."

Harry screwed up his face in annoyance. "It's fine for me. I don't care what I look like," he explained.

She looked back up at him. "I care what I look like, Harry. And if you are to accompany me zen you shall look better zan you do now."

Surprise took him aback. "I'm going somewhere?"

A sharp nod was returned to his inquiry. "I was told by Professor Dumbledore you were to spend your entire summer under lock and key in zis house, yes?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Well I was going down to the park before I heard you Apparate."

"Like zis?" she asked in confused wonder.

He rolled his eyes and shifted to the other foot. "Look Fleur, this is what I have. I don't exactly get out much as you probably already know." He paused for a moment. "And how'd you know where I live anyway?"

The French girl ignored his question and looked behind him into the house, critically. "I am confused. You obviously can afford not to look like zee vagabond."

While Harry had on occasion hated looking like he couldn't afford proper clothes he had never had someone point it out to him in such blunt terms.

"As much as fun as it is to stand here and have you insult me I have better things to do," he snapped.

With a step backward he started to close the door but it was blocked by the girl's hand.

"Harry please. I am confused," Fleur almost pleaded.

Harry flung the door back open bordering on a rage. "These are my cousin's clothes. I don't have any of my own. My aunt and uncle can't stand having me eat their food much less buy me clothes that actually fit, okay? Are you less confused now? Do you feel better knowing that I'm treated as well as a house-elf? Can I close my effing door now?"

Fleur stepped back with each question thrown at her and flinched when Harry slammed the door in her face.

"Merde," she whispered.

She turned and with a bit of trepidation in her step rounded the house from whence she came.

"Next time you might start off with 'Hi Harry'," said the pink-haired young woman from behind the bushes lining the house.

Fleur flinched and then breathed out to ease her startled nerves. "Tonks, what are you doing here?"

Tonks motioned back at the house with her head. "Dumbledore's got us watching Harry in shifts, which, by the way, you would already know if you were at the last Order meeting."

She didn't let up on the French girl even when ears started to turn red from the slight. "So, you and the prodigy, huh?"

Fleur reddened even more at the inference and turned her embarrassment into aloofness. "If you must know I was going to invite Harry to lunch to zank him for saving my life. He is much too young for a romantic relationship."

Tonks snorted. "Yeah, two years is quite the gulf."

Fleur sniffed as if insulted and continued walking out of sight before she Disapparated.  

~0~

July 4

After Harry's aunt and uncle left for the day he waited for the inevitable slamming of the front door signaling Dudley's daily jaunt to one of his friend's houses. He gathered a few items of clothing and made his way to the bathroom for a shower ironically before spending the day sweating profusely. When he returned to his room there were two owls standing atop a good sized package on his desk.

He moved to Hedwig's water bowl and set it on the desk letting the owls drink before setting back out to whoever sent the package. Written in black ink on the plain brown paper was his name and address. Harry grabbed the sides and tore at the paper to find an equally plain brown box with spell-o-tape sealing the opening and an envelope similarly secured on top.

He withdrew the note and read the following:

Harry,

I send along with this gift my sincere apologies for my rudeness yesterday. My attitude was inexcusable and I hope you will accept this gift instead of a proper apology that probably should be made in person. I cannot bring myself to do so because I would most likely make you mad once more and that was never my intention.

I owe my life to you, Harry. My intentions yesterday were to take you to lunch and perhaps get to know the young man behind the fame, the same person who risked his life for my own. I have lost my chance as of yesterday and I hope you will find it in your heart to sometime bestow upon me a second.

Please accept this gift in the spirit that it was given.

Fleur

Harry frowned and then grabbed a letter opener and cut away the tape. He lifted the top off and inside he found clothes. Lifting one article out he was stunned in how small and light it was until it was unfolded. His face flushed and he dropped the satin bikini underwear back in the box.

~0~

December 31, 1999, London

"Six more months," Harry replied to Hannah Abbot as they stood on the west pedestrian walkway of the Hungerford Bridge otherwise known as the Charing Cross Bridge that straddled the River Thames in anticipation of the massive fireworks show in celebration of what most people called the new millennium.

"I'm so excited for you, Harry," she said as she pushed her shoulders forward and hid her face in the fur collar of her coat.

Harry tightened the scarf around his neck and shivered slightly at the frigid air. "Yeah, I'll be so glad when it's done with so I can actually be an Auror; enough of this cadet rubbish."

Hannah giggled and then let the relative silence of passers-by settle in. They watched as some foreign Muggle news crews were finishing setting up their cameras at the middle of the walkway. Some reporters were already broadcasting on the scene commentaries and capturing a few words from some of the locals.

"What are they doing?" Hannah asked.

Harry closed in so he wouldn't be heard as easily by anyone near. "They're covering the fireworks for the Muggle television."

At Hannah's inquiring look he continued. "See that thing that guy is pointing at that other guy?"

She nodded.

"That's a camera and he's using it to send a real time picture of whatever he shoots at to televisions around the world."

Her eyes widened. "You mean every Muggle in the world can see me?"

Harry almost laughed when he looked back at the cameraman pointing straight at the two of them. He froze his movement for a split second and then grabbed a hold of Hannah's arm and spun her around.

"Bloody hell," he cursed to himself.

It was only a second later when he heard the reporter behind him.

"Excuse me?" came a voice with an American accent.

Harry turned and gave the man an uncomfortable smile.

"I'm Stephen Stone from FOX News in America. Would you mind a few quick words for our viewers?"

Harry gave Hannah a fast look. He could see that she was wide-eyed in stage shock. "Uh, sure, a few."

Stone pointed at the cameraman and before Harry knew it the questions were rapid fired from the reporter. Luckily Hannah was silent throughout and only gave the reporter a slight giggle when he referred to Harry and her as young lovers out enjoying the new year.

The news crew moved on to another couple and Harry sighed in relief. "Thanks for staying calm."

She reached out and grabbed Harry's wrists. "People all over the world just saw us!"

He grinned in return. "Yeah, I guess they did."

An electric arc sounded in the distance as they turned and saw the Connex passenger train entered the rail bridge from Charring Cross side speeding their way.

"It's gonna get loud," Harry said on the verge of yelling as the train neared.

Hannah covered her ears with her hands and screamed in delight when the train passed. Seconds later a loud explosion rocked the rail bridge and the sound of screeching metal pierced the air.

"Down!" Harry yelled and rammed his body into Hannah's pushing her to the ground.

The train derailed a moment later the front cars jumping through the guard rails to the pedestrian bridge instantly killing several people as it came to a stop hanging precariously over the Thames.

Harry scrambled to his feet a few seconds later pulling Hannah with him. He pointed to the Charing Cross side and said, "Run!"

Hannah held on to his arm. "What about you?"

He looked back and forth between the hanging train and to his date. "I've got to help."

She nodded and turned to follow the rest of the people pushing their way to the safety of solid land. Harry didn't bother seeing if she made it and turned to see what he could do to help.

He ran to the where the train had crossed over the bridge and saw the carnage of blood and various body parts smeared over the concrete from the lead car sliding along. He swallowed acrid bile that rose though his throat. It was then that his brain registered the screams of the passengers trying to escape the lead car.

Harry saw the second car door open and bloodied passengers scrambling out. He assisted them down and clear of the worst of the carnage until he noticed the reporter from earlier making his way forward.

"Help them," Harry called out. "I've got to get to the front car."  

The reporter nodded and Harry leapt atop the hand railing then to the top of the second car. He turned to the side and whipped out his wand to apply a mild sticking charm to the soles of his shoes. Making his way as quick as he could he looked between the two cars and saw the twisted metal of the coupling barely holding together. He applied a permanent sticking charm to the coupling and then hopped to the first car. The back door of the car was locked half open with a couple of hands sticking out. Cries for help sounded from inside.

"Help is here. Get away from the door! I'll open it."

The hands disappeared and send a silent severing charm at the hinges. Before he moved the door he conjured a thick rope and tied it off to the second car. The door moved itself or rather whoever was on the other side of the door moved it and Harry watched as it fell to the side and into the Thames.

He dropped the rope into the car. "Grab on!"

The sounds of sirens echoed in the distance as he pulled them up one at a time and sent them to safety over the top of the second car.

"Five?" Harry said in horror at the last person that he pulled up.

The young teen that grabbed for balance nodded. "Everyone else is dead."

Harry grimaced and pointed to the second car. "Go, hurry."

With one last look in the first car he climbed back and dropped down to the bridge. By the time he made it back several official types were helping the injured from the third car that crossed the two bridges when another squeal of metal sounded at the first car when it popped free and fell to the river below.

The resulting stress on the rest of the train caused it to rock back and then forward toward everyone on the pedestrian bridge. Seeing no other alternative Harry swished and flicked his wand at the third car.

The guardrail folded and the train fell halfway to the bridge. Screams sounded and Harry pushed halting the third and forth cars from killing everyone in the area. He stood to the side with his wand brandished straining against the full weight of the train.

"MOVE! I CAN'T HOLD IT FOR LONG!"

The Emergency Services personnel paused for only a moment before grabbing whoever was near them and dragging them clear.

"Dammit," Harry cursed.

He glanced to the side and saw the news cameras, several of them, pointed directly at him. There was no way he would be able to explain what he was doing, especially to the entire world. So he did the only thing that he could, he Disapparated.

~0~

"Millions of Muggles! Hundreds of millions of Muggles!" yelled newly elected Minister of Magic Wulfric Pennington. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Harry Potter stood at attention dressed in his best robes. His eyes twitched as spittle flew in his face due to the nearness of his accuser.

"Saved dozens of innocents?" he offered weakly and then with a thought he added, "Sir."

The Minister had turned to his desk and then spun around red-faced. "THAT was a rhetorical question Potter!"

Pennington grabbed a handful of parchment from his desk and waved it in the air. "The ICW is up in arms for your head. Magical governments across the world are scrambling Obliviators to the highest levels of Muggle government."

Harry crooked and eyebrow at the Minister. "What was I supposed to do, let everyone die?"

Without a second thought the Minister exploded in fury. "EXACTLY! They are Muggles! It was a Muggle problem!"

"I don't see it that way," Harry replied with a slight bit of anger in his voice.

"You aren't paid to think, Potter. You are paid to follow and enforce the laws of the Magical government of Great Britain when you graduated the Auror Academy." The Minister pulled out his chair and sat down with a sardonic smile on his face. "And as of now that will be never."

Pennington dropped the parchment he was holding to his desk and leaned back. "Harry Potter, as of this second day of January in the 1157th year of Merlin you are hereby expelled from the Auror Academy and sacked from the Ministry of Magic."

Harry's eyes narrowed in the expected punishment.

"You will consider yourself under house arrest for seventeen violations of the Statutes of Secrecy," the Minister continued. "You will confine yourself to your home until the tenth of January whereupon you will be tried in a full hearing of the Wizengamot at nine a.m."

Harry gritted his teeth.

"Do you understand the charges laid upon you and these judiciary requirements?"  

Harry nodded once. "Yes."

The Minister held out his hand. "Your Cadet badge, Potter."

Harry reached in his pants pocket and took one last look at the badge he worked so hard on earning and then tossed it on the desk before he turned and exited the office.

~0~

Ron Weasley was waiting in the Academy locker room as Harry cleaned out his locker in silent anger.

"It's not right," he said to Harry. "I mean you're bloody Harry Potter."

The ex-Cadet rolled his eyes his face hidden by the small door of his locker. "It's done, Ron. Let it be."

He stuffed the last of his workout clothes into a beige colored rucksack and swung the door closed with a hollow clang. "Give me a call sometime."

Ron jumped to his feet. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry dropped the rucksack and let it hang from his hand from one of the straps. "It means that I don't work here anymore, Ron. It means we won't see each other on a daily basis."

The redhead looked completely lost. "But …"

Harry's last nerve had frayed at the Minister's office and he snapped. "Look, go home read a Quidditch magazine and live your life, Ron. I know, why don't you fuck Hermione in the ass again. You were real proud of that accomplishment last week. Maybe you can make her squeal this time. Me, I'm going to have some fun, maybe get drunk, shag some anonymous girl and count the days till I get tossed into Azkaban."

With that he turned and exited the locker room leaving a rapidly reddening Ron in his wake.

When he reached the street he slung his rucksack over his left shoulder and hailed a taxi instructing the driver to take him to the closest bar.

~0~

Harry awoke the next morning with a skull-shattering, stomach-twisting hangover. He groaned at the sunlight shining through the window next to his bed … not his bed as the thought made it through his hazy mind that he didn't have a window in his bedroom.

He opened a single eye and looked to the side at the back of a mass of blonde hair. Luckily the girl was facing the other way and the idea of an undetected escape was still a possibility. He pulled the sheet back and sat up slowly. Wincing slightly at the blood rushing either to or from his head, he wasn't entirely sure, either way he waited until the severe pounding eased to a dull throb.

Finding his clothes was a task in reverse tracking: underwear first then socks as they were closest to the bed. His jeans were by the door. He toed them up into his hand not wanting to bend over and suffer another head rush. As he slipped into his jeans he glanced over at the girl he had bedded the previous night, or was it earlier in the morning. Either way he leaned to the side to get a better look and winced. The feeling of nausea increased and it wasn't from the hangover.

Merlin, how much did I drink last night?

He thanked whatever god that would listen for finding all of his clothes, wand and rucksack in a nice trail that led to the front door and his escape from what could probably be described as a very bad mistake of liquor-induced pub-closing judgment.

Not wanting to risk a nasty Splinching he retrieved his wand and summoned the Knight Bus, and after subjecting himself to a brief stint of being slammed to and fro he stumbled out of the bus and into his rebuilt home in Godric's Hollow.

He dropped his rucksack by the door and made his way to the bedroom shedding his two day worn clothes along the way. He grabbed a remote and turned on the television that sat in the corner then dropped it on the bedside table as he entered the bathroom and started the shower warming. Replaying the last few days in his mind he thought of a dozen different ways he could have done things differently.

Opening the medicine cabinet he withdrew a hangover remedy and downed it grimacing at its taste. In his mind he fought the accusations of the Minister and even thought of several witty remarks that were well past their prime in usage. It was always the way, well after the fact, which one would think of their best arguments and the futility of not being able to use them.

Stepping under the hot-as-he-could-stand-it water he leaned against the wall of the shower and closed his eyes.

~0~

The phone at the bedside table rang as he was tying his shoelaces and Harry frowned in anticipation of who it might be. Perhaps it was Ginny trying for the billionth time that month to worm her way back into his life after the fiasco at Hogsmead.  Maybe it was even Hermione angry because Ron took his suggestion and tried to bugger her again last night. That thought made him shake his head.

He reached over and lifted the receiver off of its cradle and propped it on his shoulder as he continued with his laces.

"Potter," he greeted whoever was on the other end.

"Harry Potter?" a male voice replied.

He finished with his second shoe and grabbed the end of the receiver straightening his back in turn. "Who's this?"

"Gambolt Jameson of the Prime Minister's office," the man said with a somewhat official tone to his voice.

Harry squinted his eyes in confusion. "What can I do for you this morning, Mr. Jameson?"

"Will you please confirm that you are the same Harry Potter that saved twenty-seven people on the Hungerford Bridge on the thirty-first of December?"

He rolled his eyes and his slid free hand down his face rubbing the remainder of the crust from his eyes as he went. "Yeah," he said shortly.

A short silence held its place in the conversation and then was broken by the caller. "Mr. Potter there is a Ministry car pulling up to your house. The Prime Minister is requesting your presence."

Harry got to his feet and exited his room in favor of his home office at the front of the house where he pulled aside the curtains, and he saw a black limousine with British Ministry markings waiting at the curb.  

He breathed out an even breath and returned to the bedroom. Picking up the dropped receiver he cringed at what he was about to say.

"I'm not really supposed to speak to anyone about the incident, Mr. Jameson."

"I assure you, Mr. Potter that we are all well aware of your secretive society and the possession of, shall we say, special gifts that you put on display for over …" there was a short pause and the sound of shuffling papers in the background, "… here it is. The last official count is two point seven billion people across the globe."

Harry swallowed with great difficulty and felt his knees weaken as he dropped to the bed in disbelief.

"It's all the rage on the internet and on all the official news stations. Do you own a television, Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned his head to the corner then grabbed the remote and changed the channel to Sky One. He tapped the volume up a couple of notches and heard the current debate between two very animated men.

"I tell you it's Satan's work on Earth. 'He will come to you in a familiar face,'" one man quoted scripture.

"Oh you got to be fucking kidding me," Harry whispered to himself.

"Not at all, Mr. Potter," Jameson answered.

Shaken from his thoughts Harry returned to the conversation. "Not you; the idiots on the telly." He clicked the television off. "Give me a few minutes, Mr. Jameson, I'll be out front in a few minutes."

The line disconnected without any salutations and Harry hung up the phone.

He grabbed and pocketed his necessities then pulled a lined trench coat from the closet by the front door before exiting, locking, and charming the door against any unwanted visitors until he returned. The limo driver was waiting aside the rear door and opened it at Harry's approach.  

Harry nodded and climbed in the back.

He knew he could have Apparated to wherever the Prime Minister was at currently, but Harry knew he needed time to recall those witty remarks and arguments that he was thinking of earlier in his hangover induced fog.

He never second-guessed saving those peoples lives. That wasn't even in question. It was just how he went about saving them that was the big issue.

~0~

The limo stopped in front of a small well kept chateau where two men waited at the front walk near the main door. When the limo came to a stop they advanced to the car and escorted Harry inside and closed the front door.

After a brief and what Harry thought a bracing pat-down he was escorted to a room toward the back of the chateau. The men took posts on either side of the door and motioned for Harry to proceed.

The room turned out to be a fairly well stocked two tiered library. A reading table sat in the middle of the rectangular room and a more formal desk at the far end of which sat the Prime Minister.

"Mr. Potter, come in, have a seat."

The PM didn't bother with the traditional handshake and Harry knew that this didn't bode well of the coming conversation. He took the left of two chairs that stood in front of the desk and set his hand on the arms letting his fingers slide along the leather.

"Thank you for coming without any argument," the PM started.

Harry gave him an acknowledging nod.

The PM interlaced his fingers and leaned forward on his forearms into the desk. "First, on the behalf of the people of England I would like to thank you for your part in the atrocities that occurred on New Year's Eve. If not for you then the death toll would have been … well…"

Before Harry responded the PM cut him off. "Second, I've asked you here to try to put a stop to what the Magicals are trying to do to the rightful governments around the world."

Harry sat up straighter. "Excuse me?"

The PM's eyed hardened. "The attacks on certain members of Parliament, and other legislative bodies across the world," he offered.

In response Harry sat on the edge of his seat. "What attacks?"

The PM searched Harry's face for any sign of deception and then grabbed a remote control that sat on the desk and pointed it at one of the bookcases. Two sets of cases recessed back into the wall and then pulled apart revealing a large monitor that slid forward flush with the case. The screen came on and Harry could tell it was a closed circuit caption of an official office.

One moment a man sat behind his desk then the next a wizard Apparated in his office and obliviated him. The PM increased the sound and Harry heard the wizard perform the Imperious Curse.

Harry's jaw dropped and he was out of his chair and in front of the monitor watching as the wizard gave his victim instructions which would cover up Harry's involvement in the actions at the bridge.

"One would think that people of your power would make sure they weren't seen on the CCTV," the PM stated wryly.

Harry stared on at the monitor. "They're idiots. They've closed themselves out of society for so long that they don't know what regular people are capable of."

"You say 'they' like you aren't one of them."

Harry turned pulled his coat open and pocketed his hands. "I'm what's known as Muggle raised; I grew up in Little Whinging. Most wizards are born into wizard society and shun anything normal. They're about two hundred years in the past, technology wise."

The PM's face somewhat relaxed.

"I'm told that you are somewhat of a powerful person in your world, Mr. Potter."

Harry shook his head and returned to his seat. "I'm famous, not powerful; there's a difference."

"Fame comes with its own amount of power," the PM concluded.

"Well, I'm more of the infamous type recently because I decided it was better to use my magic to save Muggles instead of letting them die to protect the Statutes of Secrecy."

The PM reclined in his chair. "Yes, I understand about State Secrecy, but what is happening is beyond the pale, Mr. Potter. I cannot allow these attacks to go on any longer and the Minister of Magic refuses to even return my requests through that portrait that's hanging in my office. Apparently I'm not important enough to be heard." The distain in the PM showed in his voice.  

Harry nodded. "In his eyes you aren't."

"I see."

"And they aren't going to listen to anything you've got to say short of …" Harry stopped abruptly and looked into the PM's eyes seeing the resolute defiance behind them. "You aren't …"

Before Harry had the chance to finish his thought he heard the distinct Crack of Apparition behind him. He dropped forward and whipped his wand out.

"Perkinston," Harry spat. "What are you doing here?"

"Potter," the Obliviator answered in response. "Consorting with the Muggle Government? This won't look good at your trial."

Harry silently sent forth a red jet of light that impacted on the Obliviator before he could raise his wand in return.  The PM rounded his desk.

"Is he dead?"

Harry shook his head. "I've stunned him."

"That's the last straw, Mr. Potter."