Chapter Text
Carcès, Provence, France
Harry, wearing a leather cap and pilot goggles, whooped from the shiny black sidecar as Sirius twisted the motorbike’s accelerator for one last, giddiness-inducing pull through the final turn on the road to the gate of the fortified Provence town of Carcès, cliff walls on one side and a spectacular view of the fortifications half a mile ahead on the other. The steep drop into the valley below only made it more thrilling to Harry, who had enjoyed their little excursion into the twists and turns of the roads through the Gorge du Verdon, a large canyon in the south of France, immensely.
At one of the viewpoints, he had heard a muggle tourist remark that the Gorge was like a Grand Canyon of Europe, except greener and less dusty. They had also talked about how its winding roads had been mercifully free of cyclists, which had resulted in a boast by his godfather that traffic was not a concept wizards would ever really need to concern themselves with anyway. Much too soon, Sirius slowed the vehicle, the engine obnoxiously loud even at close to idle, its roar echoing through the narrow, sandy-orange mediaeval streets, earning them the irritated looks of everyone as they passed. Harry loved it, even if he did feel a little bit guilty for disturbing the quiet. Finally, they came to a stop at a parking lot conveniently located next to their destination: a wizarding pizzeria with a terrace and a lovely view over the busy town square.
Gladly reaching for Sirius’ proffered hand, Harry clambered out of the sidecar, undid the strap of his leather cap, and shifted the goggles to his forehead. “Oh Merlin, look at the state of your face!” his godfather cackled. “You look like you ate a whole swarm of insects!”
Harry looked at his reflection in a nearby shop window and scowled. Sirius had not worn goggles, and somehow lacked any bug guts on his face at all. The boy turned and began to rant, jabbing an accusatory finger at his godfather. “I hate that you forbade me from doing any magic even though we aren’t in Britain and the trace doesn’t work. You charmed yourself before we left! This is absolutely ridic – “
“Harry?” interrupted a familiar voice.
He turned and was immediately thankful for the dirt on his face hiding the blush he could feel coming already. His jaw dropped when he saw Cho Chang rising from a table on the terrace with what he guessed were her parents. She was wearing summer clothes that showed far more skin than anything anyone could possibly wear in frigid Scotland. Sandals, a short, simple blue skirt, and a white sleeveless top that exposed the belly overwhelmed his senses. “Cho? What are you doing here?”
Immediately, he knew it had come out wrong. The Ravenclaw seeker frowned, confused, and Harry desperately thought of how to rescue the situation, but his brain simply did not offer a suitable thing to say to rectify his clumsiness. “What am I doing here?” she asked, sounding offended. “Well, I’m here on holiday with my family. What brings you here then?”
Harry tried to speak but felt his voice fail him. Academically, he knew he was nursing some sort of crush on her: sweaty palms, inability to have conduct even basic conversation, watching her whenever he could, dreams (day and night), and, in a secret he would never tell anyone, ever, also because one of his new hobbies, in his alone time, was ranking her features from merely beautiful to drop-dead gorgeous. Knowing he had a crush was of little use when he did not know what to do about it though.
He was saved by the arrival of a little girl who looked like a miniature version of Cho but in pigtails, immediately leaning up and hissing furiously into her ear in a language he did not understand. Harry guessed it must have been Chinese, but he did not think he had ever heard the language being spoken in real life before, maybe snippets when Dudley watched a Kung Fu film on TV. Clearly, whatever it was, it was anger-inducing, as Cho went a curious shade of dark red.
“Wei here, my darling little sister,” she presented, Glaswegian accent heavy in her anger, “wanted to say hi and thank you for, well, you know,” she added while they both eyed his scar, as smudged as it currently was beneath his goggles. Harry suddenly felt self-conscious about how filthy he was under Wei’s intense stare, and it got even worse when Wei made a zap noise and drew a lightning bolt in the air.
“Oh, well, you know, I didn’t really do much, it was more my parents – “
A hand landed on his shoulder, rescuing him from having to explain further. Harry looked up and recognised Sirius Alias Number 4, based on Gilderoy Lockheart. He could already feel a headache coming, this one was always so embarrassing. “Harry, Harry, Harry,” he said, as Harry cursed himself for ever acting out his former defence teacher’s most irritating phrase and watched the two adults who were evidently Cho’s parents approach, “why don’t you introduce me to these two charming young ladies?”
“Fine. Cho, Wei, this is – “
“Leopold Leberkas, at your service, madams,” interrupted Sirius, bowing deeply. He turned, “Aha! You must be the parents of these two lovely charmers? Leopold Leberkas, this little rascal’s guardian for the time being by virtue of being an old family friend, how do you do?”
Sirius continued his pompous act and drew Cho’s somewhat confused parents into conversation. Steve and Christine Chang, both born in Hong Kong, had chosen English first names before moving to Glasgow, as many Chinese people did in an effort to avoid their real names being mispronounced. Before long, they were inviting Harry and “Leopold” to have dinner with them.
“Are you sure?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned and honest for the first time. “We would not wish to impose upon your precious family time! Indeed, Harry here,” he clapped the boy on the shoulder a smidge too hard, “was going to show me his collection of miniature French dolls again. It’s not my favourite way to pass the time, and you would be saving me from a dreary evening, but I understand the value of exclusive family time.”
Harry jerked his head in shocked, initially speechless offence while Cho, Wei, Christine, and Steve shared a laugh with Leopold, whose grin could have competed with Lockheart’s for the cover of Witch Weekly. “I do not collect miniature French dolls!” he protested.
Sirius, as Leopold, looked down at the teen and feigned being sorry. “Of course, Harry, I am sorry I keep forgetting the correct term,” he said, turning to the Changs. “Please remember they’re not called miniature French dolls, they’re to-scale lifelike reproductions of the fashion of the French nobility between the 17th and 18th century on composite figurines. Better?”
Steve laughed again and waved them over, picking up two chairs as he walked. “Enough nonsense Leopold, stop teasing the poor lad and please eat with us. I won’t hear one more word of protest! It would be our absolute pleasure to share dinner with you and, of course, the great Harry Potter, with his lesser-known expertise on 300-year-old fashion, himself!”
Harry, face flushed, silent in his embarrassment but utterly famished, wedged himself into a seat between Cho and Wei before Sirius could ruin his reputation further. Not knowing much about pizza, the Dursleys never having had much respect for “that foreign muck”, he ignored the bird-shaped menu that flapped into his hands, and simply ordered what the girls were having.
“A Vesuvius pizza? Are you sure Harry, that’s quite spicy you know,” said Cho’s mum.
“Oh, I love spicy food, don’t worry about it Mrs. Chang!”
His earnestness seemed to mollify her so she simply nodded and mentioned he should call her Christine. Harry reasoned that if a little girl like Wei, who had just revealed to a charming Leopold that she was eight years old, could handle the spice, then so could he. And, he couldn’t help but notice that Cho’s eyebrows had risen when he had chosen his dish. Hopefully, she was either impressed by his bravery or his casual, cool, and worldly approach to trying new things. He quickly nipped to the bathroom to wash the grime of the day’s motorbike trip off his face and hands, taking a moment to inspect himself in the mirror. Then, he grabbed the sink and stared at his reflection intently.
“This is it, Harry. Your chance to get to know her! None of her friends are around. You need to impress her! Dean said that summer romances are a thing after third year! You can do it!”
He was surprised when his reflection laughed at him. “Per’aps if you actually coiff’d yourself and cleaned your fingernails, monsieur!”
Bloody talking mirrors. Harry gave it two fingers as he walked away.
“Such insolence! Incroyable! Espèce de rosbif, viens par ici un peu hein, qu’on discute un peu. Hey! Come back ‘ere!” it shouted, but his mind was firmly elsewhere, and he did not listen to the muffled insults it continued to hurl after him through the closed door.
He sat back down at the table just as the pizzas were being delivered, clearly washing his face had taken longer than he thought. The plates contained some sort of thin bread covered in what was quite clearly bubbling lava made of tomato, cheese, and tiny orange-red discs of what looked to him like a kind of dangerous salami. Little volcanos of dough rose through the topping and slowly erupted, blowing dark smoke rings that tickled your nostrils, and leaking a sauce that looked a threatening shade of red. Harry watched the girls eagerly cut their pizzas into triangles through the middle and copied them. This at least, he reasoned, even he could do without embarrassing himself.
Harry was about to bite into the first slice when Wei stopped him.
“Wait! You can’t start yet. Everyone has to be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Cho smiled. “For the challenge of course. First one to cry loses, but we all take the first bite at the same time. Didn’t you read the menu? It’s a magical challenge.! Most people say it’s better to eat quickly, so that the heat is over faster, but others think you won’t take such a strong hit if you eat slowly. It’s all tactics!”
Harry obviously could not admit that he had been staring at Cho the entire time everyone else had been focused on the menus. Sirius-as-Leopold gave Harry a knowing smirk but seemed to be unwilling to intervene in any helpful way. In fact, he took control of the competition, which Harry immediately decided was unhelpful.
“It looks to me like each of you has a slice. This is an honourable challenge, and you two girls look ready to take it on. As for you Harry, well…” he paused, as if deep in thought. “Good luck? Now, on my mark! Get ready! Three, two, one, bon appétit!”
Harry sniffed his slice and was distantly reminded of the time Aunt Petunia had had Uncle Vernon lift him up to put his head over the water boiling on the hob. Then, she had told him to breathe in to unblock his “annoying runny nose” (her words, but he had actually agreed). Now, his nostrils were suddenly hot and runny, and his mind filled with regret. This was going to hurt, he realised.
Resigned to his fate, he took a big bite and chewed, trying to ignore the fact that the spice was building with each chomp. Cho and Wei were watching him intently as he felt his tongue begin to fry and crackle like a slice of bacon, inside of his mouth. They laughed a bit, but were soon occupied with themselves as they dug into their pizzas. Wei’s face had immediately turned a deep shade of purple and she somehow started emitting a high-pitched whistle like a kettle from her ears. Meanwhile to Harry’s shock Cho seemed almost unaffected, wiping her mouth with a napkin, and preparing to take another bite. Only her red cheeks and a trail of steam gently exiting her ears betrayed any sort of impact of the spice.
By the third slice, Wei had almost completely shut her eyes to prevent the tears from rolling down her cheeks, Harry could feel and hear an ominous quake in his tummy, and even Cho was beginning to struggle, having at some point decided to chew with her mouth open. Harry tried not to think too hard about the sizzle coming from her mouth he knew to be coming from her tongue.
Ever the Gryffindor, he refused to give up, though he could certainly feel his eyes watering and his nose getting even more runny. His back, his feet, in fact he realised his entire body was getting sweaty. Meanwhile, the adults laughed at their discomfort, enjoying their red wine and more reasonable choices of pizza.
The worst thing was, Harry could feel the heat build rather than go away or, at the very least, stay at the same level of intensity. At this point, he had stopped paying attention to the others around him. His lips, mouth, and especially tongue occasionally spouted magical flames, and he had to remind himself more than once not to put his fingers anywhere near his eyes. So much sweat was accumulating in his eyebrows that they were completely saturated, periodically shedding great drops which, annoyingly, kept landing on his glasses. Even his ears felt spicy, something he had not thought possible.
“It just keeps getting worse and worse!” he finally groaned between slices, shaking his head, beads of sweat flying everywhere. “You eat this for fun?”
Harry did not hear the laughs from the others around the table, too preoccupied with a furious itch between his nose and his eye he knew he could not get rid of without an appropriate tool. It took all of his willpower not to give it just a little scratch… however, he had received dire warnings of what happened when spice met eye.
In the end, Wei lost the power to hold back her tears, and a streak formed on her cheek. The adults cheered their congratulations at the trio and she smiled devilishly despite the pain.
“I had to make sure you didn’t lose, Harry, you were getting close. Otherwise, Cho would never have forgiven me!”
Cho, also visibly more than a little bit worse off than previously, leaned forward to look across Harry’s plate and angrily hissed something in Chinese at the little girl, but she just smirked and kept eating as tears flowed down her face freely. In that short moment when Cho had leaned across, Harry, still mostly lost in a haze of chilli, had a bit of a view down his crush’s top, and needed to force himself to stare at his last slice of pizza, certain that just having seen a hint of a tiny bit of sideboob would keep his mind occupied for weeks re-ordering the ranking. Luckily, the spice hid his blush even from his godfather, who was too busy alarming the girls’ parents by proclaiming Wei an honorary Gryffindor for holding on for so long. Clearly, and despite Wei’s delight, this was not something that filled Steve and Christine with much delight, as they had been so proud of their eldest daughter’s sorting into Ravenclaw and looked forward to their youngest following in her footsteps.
Harry ate the rest of his pizza, happily crying and giggling with the sisters, all three of them under the effect of some sort of spice-induced euphoria. Later, he thought that, actually, this had been a perfect evening. The shared pain had created a sort of camaraderie between the three, and inevitably the conversation had turned to Harry and Cho’s quidditch exploits, something he was actually able to talk about, even in front of Cho, at length, with enthusiasm, and without stumbling over his words every time he opened his mouth. In the end, everyone had agreed to meet again the next day, the Changs clearly happy that their daughters had a friend. Most importantly, Cho had smiled at him as they had parted ways for the night.
After a difficult night, during which Harry had virtually gassed himself out of his own room with his toxic, magic-induced farts, he found himself trudging up a hill while the adults sampled the delights of various fresh local white wines in the summer heat.
The children had found the descriptions of vintages and grapes incredibly boring, Wei providing an opportunity to escape by complaining that she had not seen any French magical creatures yet. Leopold, clearly wearing Sirius’ mischievous smile, had taken the opportunity to tell her about the dahu, a type of magical mountain goat which had evolved to grow its legs shorter on one side so that it could stay stable on cliffsides. Allegedly, for Harry did not believe a single word, there were two species of dahu: those that went around the mountain clockwise who had stubby right legs, and those that went around the mountain anti-clockwise and had stubby left legs.
Laughing, he even added that it was impossible for them to interbreed, as they would only ever meet face-to-face or rear-to-rear. Wei had adored the story and, the parents having run out of patience and interruptions by the middle of the afternoon, the two teens were put in charge of taking her outside to “find one”. Much eye-rolling ensued, Cho and her mother having a brief argument in Chinese that ended with the older girl huffing, nodding primly as she turned, and sticking out her hand to lead Wei away.
“We need very steep hills or cliffs!” exclaimed Wei, as Harry followed the girls in awkward silence to who-knew-where. He sometimes struggled to keep up with her Glaswegian accent, which was far stronger than Cho’s. “If we’re going to see a da’hoo,” she mispronounced adorably, “we need to get away from the muggles. Let’s go!”
Thus, a few hours of walking in the burning summer afternoon sun later, they found themselves at the easily reached summit of a small rocky mountain nearby, devoid of any but the toughest lifeforms. There were lizards aplenty fleeing into the small, hardy bushes that survived by finding the smallest piles of earth and clinging onto them for dear life, but their surroundings were mostly devoid of any trees.
Being at the top allowed them to see for miles in every direction, so Harry and Cho pointed out the village church tower in the valley below and various landmarks they had each visited so far on their holiday. Neither noticed as a smirking Wei silently snuck up behind her sister and dropped the green lizard she had caught on her shoulder, immediately running away cackling. Cho screeched, when she noticed flailing wildly and accidentally backhanding Harry in the face, knocking off his glasses in the process. After some more hopping about, colourful swearing, and swiping with her hands across her body, she managed to remove the lizard and turned back to Harry, both mortified and enraged.
“Oh my goodness I am so sorry Harry! Are you okay?” she asked, moving towards him in concern. She watched as he brought his finger back down from his nose and inspected it. “Oh Merlin! I gave you a nosebleed? Oh, that little shit is dead when I get her. Wei? Where are you?”
Knowing that revenge was inevitable, Wei had fled back down towards the foot of the mountain, her manic laughter having already disappeared.
Harry caught the elder girl’s arm as she prepared to pursue. His voice sounded comically nasal as he leaned back his head. “Cho, please, don’t worry about her, it’s fine, see? The nosebleed has already calmed down, it’s probably nothing. Could you help me find my glasses please? I’m useless without them.”
For a moment, Cho stared at the grinning boy in front of her, suppressing a shudder at the way the blood stained his teeth. The search itself did not take long, and she winced as she picked up the glasses, now even more embarrassed than before. “I’m sorry Harry. There’s a big crack in the right lens, I’m sure my parents will pay for new ones! Reparo doesn’t always work that well for glasses.”
“Oh, that’s okay, Si-,” he stopped himself for a moment, putting his glasses back on to cover the way he had interrupted himself, “I mean, Leopold, can fix them with magic or buy some when we get back. Now, let’s see. Ah! That’s better. It’s a relief to see your eyes again. Perfect! Life is lovely again.”
She laughed lightly, rolling her eyes, gently whacked his arm at his silliness, then looked him in the eyes again and smiled. Harry fought the urge to blush and cheered internally at his seemingly well-received attempt at flirtation, and they found themselves in silence just grinning at one another.
A panicked, high-pitched scream that could only belong to Wei interrupted whatever moment they were having, and they both immediately set off in her direction at a run.
“Wei!” they both shouted when they rounded a large rock and could not see her. She screamed again, sounding further this time.
“Look, near that big, tall skinny stone that we saw earlier and compared to an obelisk, down there, next to the path!” pointed Harry, his voice calm and serious. “Something just moved!”
They set off again, running down the rock, gravel, and sand path they had used to get to the summit, calling for Wei as her panicked screams seemed to get further and further away. As they ran around the large boulder he had pointed at that blocked their vision, they finally caught sight of the little girl even further away than before. A group of four robed teenagers, each holding brooms, were dragging a howling Wei by the arm.
“Hey!” called Cho, gesturing at them wildly. “Wait! What are you doing with her?”
The group stopped and turned, surprised looks quickly shifting to defensive postures.
“Let my sister go,” ordered Cho breathlessly, having run to within a few feet of them before stopping.
A tall, blond boy was holding Wei’s arm tightly, refusing to let go even as she struggled to get free. He did not react to the order, staring at Cho blankly, just like the others. Finally, the lone girl of the group, lanky and even taller than he turned to him and spoke. Harry looked at her face, gaunt and elegant, giving off an aura of arrogance.
“T’as vu? Maintenant on a trois moldus à oblivier, espèce de con. Tout ça à cause de ton soit-disant sens de l’honneur,” she spat at him viciously, clearly unimpressed. He angrily replied in French, ignoring both Harry and Cho but keeping a firm hold of Wei as the group descended into a chaotic argument.
“Moldu?” said Harry to Cho, paling. “They think we’re muggles. I’m not sure if I understood correctly but I think that they think that we’ve seen something we aren’t supposed to and want to obliviate us. Do you have your wand? Because I don’t. How else can we prove that we aren’t?”
“Oh, I think I can solve that. You’ll have to forgive me,” she replied, annoyed that they had made assumptions simply because they were wearing muggle clothes while on holiday. “Hoi!” she tried to gain their attention with a clap and waving of her hands, only mildly succeeding, “this here, right here next to me, is none other than Harry. Potter!”
That got their attention. “Elle a dit ‘Arry Potter?” set off urgent chatter between the four French teenagers.
Wei used the distraction to tear free of the blond, who seemed unable to choose between relief and excitement, a glint in his eye as he explained something to the others and managed to quiet them down. He turned to the three foreigners and bowed. “Pardonnez-nous,” he started, before pointing to himself, “René Ricard.”
He moved down the line and introduced the two boys he was with, “Mathieu Mominette, Priscillien Picon,” until he reached the tall, beautiful girl who had been so angry at René. There was a break until she stepped forward and bowed silently, so he introduced her too. “Bérenénice Belaque,” he finished with a visible and audible twinge of annoyance. There was an awkward silence as they all stared at Harry and his scar, everyone unsure how to proceed. They completely ignored the girls as he introduced them by name as well, having lost all interest in anything but him.
Finally, after the French teenagers had grown bored of the staring, René approached Harry, gesticulating with his broom. Harry, happy to do just about anything other than be gawked at, nodded when René offered it to him. It was a French model he was not familiar with, made of what appeared to be polished, petrified, grey-white wood and with delicate bristles that he was afraid to even touch the floor with. “Allez, vas-y!” encouraged René, and Harry was suddenly snapped out of his admiration for the beautiful tool in his hand and got into position.
“Try not to be reckless, Harry,” warned Cho as the boy beamed a smile.
Harry did try but despite his best efforts, it was as if the letters that made up the words Cho had just said sprouted faces, arms, and legs, before landing on Harry’s shoulder. Then, they climbed into his head via his right ear in an orderly fashion, and moments fell to their doom out the other, unnoticed and ignored, landing on the floor with a silent splat. This was the boy who’d ordered a Vesuvius pizza without even knowing what it was. There was no way he knew how not to be reckless.
Wei cheered when he shot into the air and immediately started corkscrewing higher into the sky. The other French teens, save René, whose broom Harry had, unable to pass up the opportunity of flying with le Harry Potter, soon joined the boy and tried to catch up with him.
Harry however, had no intention of letting any of them get close, and the impromptu game of tag was on. After weeks of not getting the chance to fly he let out a delighted “wahoo!” as he performed a perfectly timed barrel roll to dodge Mathieu’s hand, which grabbed thin air instead of a hold of his t-shirt, and then dove down to zoom past the trio that was still on the ground. Cho rolled her eyes at the display, trying and failing to hide a smile at his antics, while Wei and René cheered him on and pumped their fists in the air.
The game went on, and at one point Bérénice managed to tag Harry in an outrageously sneaky way, silently creeping up from below. He got her back shortly after, and she landed next to Cho, letting out a resigned huff. “Bon, si personne ne va être un gentleman avec toi, prends mon balait.”
Understanding her meaning, Cho gratefully took the Comet and joined in the chase. This only seemed to spur Harry on as he took increasing risks to escape those chasing him excitedly.
Sometimes, they tried to herd him into a trap with teamwork, but he was a slippery bugger, zipping through with unnatural grace and performing absurdly dangerous stunts for what seemed like no real reason. At one point, he was hanging from the broom by his fingertips, feet occasionally scraping on the floor or obstacles as he dodged and weaved around trees, all the while avoiding the French teens who dared not fly so low. Cho laughed as she caught him with a “tag, catch me if you can!” and made her own escape, only for René to catch her moments later and scarper into the sky. Cho and Harry looked at each other.
“Oh, we’re gonna have to get him good,” said Harry, stopping nearer to her with a dark smile she returned. They hovered there a while longer, seemingly content to be silently looking at the other, before a sharp, high-pitched wolf-whistle by a laughing Bérénice snapped them out of it and they both blushed. Harry murmured something about needing to catch René and zoomed off after the teenager, and the chase restarted anew.
The raucous game continued through the rest of the afternoon into the evening as the sun began to set, with occasional breaks and people swapping in and out. During these breaks, the teens, and Wei, shared their food, laughing as they attempted to communicate through the language barrier with wild gestures and by pointing at things.
Once the game had finished, with even Wei having had the chance to have a little turn, and everyone was suitably exhausted, Bérénice pulled out a bottle of wine from a pouch and distributed muggle-made paper goblets to everyone over the age of ten. Wei’s jaw dropped in outrage, but she was soon mollified when she received a larger goblet with a drop of wine and a lot of water. That way, she need not taste it.
Harry had never tasted wine before, and was surprised when the French kids all said “Chin! Chin!” instead of cheers, laughing at Cho and Wei who did not understand. He turned to the confused girls and shrugged, knocking his goblet against theirs and taking a sip. The white wine wasn’t bad, the taste a bit strange and unusual, but refreshing, especially since Bérénice’s bag was clearly able to keep it cold. Shockingly, it was something Uncle Vernon often said that came to mind as he turned to Cho.
“That’s what I’d call a drinkable wine,” he said. “But if I said that, you’d think I’m a pompous show-off prat.”
She giggled, and his chest felt warm. “I don’t need your review of a southern French wine to find you a pompous show-off. Did you see that ludicrous display in the air for goodness knows how long?”
“Like you were any better,” he replied, “I saw you lose all of us by flying through that tunnel in the rocks. That was insane.”
She straightened up and held a hand to her chest in mock Scottish outrage. “Insane? That so-called tunnel wasn’t even a tunnel, it was just one rock that crashed into another, it was maybe six feet long and I could clearly see the other end. It’s not my fault you were all a bunch of wusses, it was basically a bridge. You, on the other hand, jumped off your broom and swan-dived off a cliff! I thought you were dead!”
Harry’s face softened as he thought back to that moment. “Well, yeah, but that was to avoid René when he took his insanely fast broom back and I had to use Mathieu’s.”
Cho shook her head with a huff and sighed, taking the bottle and refilling her goblet. “You’re a total nutter Harry, but at least it looks like you know what you’re doing.”
“Looks like?” he answered quickly, unable to resist cocking a smile at her that was far more confident than he felt. Inside, his heart was beating a mile a minute. She slapped his arm, but before the conversation could go on further, Wei arrived to interrupt.
“It’s all well and good you two having fun without me and all, but everyone here is so much older, it’s getting boring. I still haven’t seen a Dahooo yet either.”
This seemed to attract the attention of the French teens again. “Tu veux voire un dahu?” asked René, and it was not hard to understand his meaning. Cho and Harry looked at each other and smiled before agreeing with Wei’s excited chanting of the word dahu. Upon standing, Harry realised that while he was not quite drunk, he was certainly not sober either, the world spinning for a split second. Cho’s giggles indicated she was coming to a similar realisation as she stumbled into him lightly. Everyone packed their things and as the trio motioned for them to follow. Soon the whole group was chanting ‘dahu,’ in different accents, the volume betraying the alcohol in their veins.
“Woah, are you alright there Cho?” he asked, concerned as he watched her stumble again.
“I’m fine, sorry, I didn’t realise this stuff would hit harder than butterbeer, even if it’s so much less. I won’t be having any more, and I’m not worried.”
In a moment of genius he would cherish for its rarity later in life as he grew up, Harry stretched out his hand. “Here, take my hand, that way we can support each other if we get dizzy.”
As René, who had clearly taken a shine to Wei, was chattering with her excitedly and pretended to have one leg shorter than the other to make her laugh (he could only walk in circles), Harry could hardly believe what was happening. He and Cho were bringing up the rear of the group walking hand in hand. He wondered what she was thinking, whether his hands were clammy or sweaty, when his heartbeat would stop thundering in his chest, and what it meant that they were holding hands. Well, he had framed it as assistance rather than a romantic thing. Maybe that was all she wanted, since she was dizzy? What if she could feel his increased heart rate through his hand? Would she think he was a creepy sweaty-palmed third year boy while she was a more mature fourth year girl?
But, she seemed happy enough walking next to him, so he tried to just let himself enjoy the moment. She was observing the spectacular sunset in the distance and seemed to be enjoying the colours in her own little world. He looked at her, the warm orange glow of the sun colouring her skin, and thanked Jesus, Merlin, and Morgana that he was holding the soft hand of this beautiful and talented girl. She looked back at him and smiled.
“It’s okay now, you know. You don’t have to hold my hand now if you don’t want to anymore, I’m not feeling dizzy.” Harry’s disappointment must have shown on his face, because she squeezed his hand before he could let go, “Or we can just carry on and make sure we both don’t fall over.”
Embarrassed, Harry struggled to find something to say that was not some sort of great declaration of his crush on her. “Well, yes, um, you see, I think, yes. What I mean is, um, you know, the wine and everything, stones and stuff, maybe lizards, definitely.”
Oh my god she must think that I’m an utter simpleton, he screamed internally. Thankfully, Wei came to the rescue.
“Look! It’s a dahoo!” she whispered more loudly than if she had spoken, pointing at a goat in the distance. It looked initially like an ordinary mountain goat eating moss on an almost vertical cliff that was more of a wall, but the French teens had a pair of omnioculars that allowed each of them to observe the crooked creature in turn. It truly did have shorter legs on one side. “There’s more! Oh! Are these baby dahoos?”
Indeed, they were. The creatures happily played on the cliff as if it were the most natural thing in the world. All of them gasped as the smaller dahus bounced and frolicked on the walls, but none fell.
Harry was forced to let go of Cho’s hand as his mirror buzzed and “Leopold” called his name. “Harry Potter! And where the hell have you been?” came the voice once he looked at it. “Do you know what time it is? Are the girls with you?”
“Oh, hi Si- Leopold,” said Harry. “We’re fine, sorry to worry you. We made some friends on the mountain and went flying, apparently it’s a muggle-free area, and now they’ve shown us a family of dahu.”
“Those actually exist?” replied Leopold, confused, much to Cho’s amusement. “Be that as it may, it’s getting late, and the sun is nearly down. Aren’t you hungry? I’ve managed to convince Steve and Christine not to send out a search party and skin you all alive once you were found, because we never agreed on a time you should be back, but it’s time.”
“Can’t you come and pick us up?” pleaded Harry. “I’m sure the girls would love a ride in the motorbike.”
Wei’s celebratory “Yaaaaay!” scared off the dahus down below.
Sirius-as-Leopold sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll come and get you,” he turned to people outside the frame. “Steve, Christine, is it alright if the girls have a go on the motorbike? Okay then. I’ll get them I suppose. Was there anything else?”
Curious at the commotion, Bérénice approached Harry and peered into the mirror over his shoulder. “C’est quoi? Oh! Un mirroir? Enchantée monsieur.“
The girl wandered away again having introduced herself, but Sirius looked stricken. “Who was that?”
“Oh, that was Bérénice, she’s one of our new friends. There’s also René, Mathieu and Priscillient.”
Sirius looked thoughtful for a moment before ending the conversation. Harry put away the mirror and immediately caught sight of Cho lost in thought, sitting on a rock next to Wei silently watching the horizon where the sun had recently disappeared. It felt like the natural thing to sit on the other side of her so he did. She looked at him for a moment and smiled but said nothing, simply taking his hand again. The French teens all went in for kisses on both cheeks as they said goodbye, sensing that the evening was about to end, and they had barely convinced a bawling Wei to let go of René when the low rumble of the flying motorbike could be heard. They gaped at the pilot, “Leopold Leberkas,” who greeted them all in cheerful, English-accented French.
Harry, Cho, and Wei waited somewhat impatiently as the teens chatted with him for a few minutes. “Hey! Do you want to meet them again tomorrow? There are a few younger kids as well,” asked Sirius, and they all nodded enthusiastically, desperate to avoid another day of watching adults taste wines. He made arrangements and said goodbye, the French teens flying away on their brooms.
“Hop into the sidecar then!” he said, pointing to it as Cho and Wei eyed it sceptically. “I promise you there’s space. Harry, do the honours so that the girls can see something when we’re in the air.”
So Harry hopped in and pressed himself in close to the motorbike, followed by Cho, and then the smallest. When she clambered in, the sidecar resized itself so that they were all sitting on comfortable leather seats and started putting on their protective gear.
“This is the greatest day of my life,” said Wei happily, to which Leopold barked a laugh and kicked the ignition. The motor roared to life as Sirius twisted the accelerator and she cheered excitedly, wearing a spare set of leather cap and goggles, as they took a short run-up to take off and headed towards the fortified town of Carcès.
Meanwhile, Harry turned to Cho. “Are you alright? You’ve been quiet.”
“I’ve just been thinking.”
“About what?”
“Oh, this and that.” There was a pause. “I think people at school have got you all wrong, Harry. Every one of the three years you’ve been at Hogwarts there’s been something, and people always said these nasty things about you, and I believed them. That you were arrogant, self-centred, a bellend, and especially that you’re actually mental, not in a good way.”
Had it not been getting dark, Harry might have seen that Cho was blushing. Had the motorbike’s engine not been right next to him, Harry might have heard the part after that where she had whispered that she was sorry for believing the stories. Instead, he took the statement at face value. “Well, what do you think now?”
Wei chose that moment to interrupt. “Look! Down there! There’s more dahus! Mister Leberkas look!”
Laughing, Sirius took the motorbike down closer and buzzed the poor mountain goats who scattered and fled the roaring monster in terror. This effectively ended Harry and Cho’s conversation until they were already rolling into Carcès. Cho and Wei barely had the time to say goodnight and to make arrangements for the next afternoon before they were whisked off by Steve and Christine, who looked somewhat irate at the time.
“Harry,” said Sirius as the two of them made their way to their hotel and he slowly cancelled the glamours he had had to maintain the whole day, “I hope you don’t mind that Steve, Christine, and I will be coming with you and the girls when you visit Bérénice’s family’s chateau in the vineyards tomorrow.”
“No, why would I mind?”
“Well, I thought you and Cho would want some privacy,” he wiggled his eyebrows.
Indignant, Harry felt his cheeks heat up again. “What? No!”
“Sure thing, lad, pull the other one,” said Sirius. “Anyway, there’s something I’m going to have to investigate while we’re there.” He paused, considering his next words. “Anyway, forget about that for now. I really like Cho. She’s sweet, and looks like she has a bit of a fiery temper. I bet you two fancy the pants off each other. Do you know your charms?”
“You and I are not having this conversation,” shouted Harry, sticking fingers into his ears as he fled, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
Sirius thought he had deftly changed the topic before his godson would ask too many details. If he was right about who Bérénice was, things were about to get interesting.