Au Revoir

A few days later was the weighing of the wands. By then, Harry's encounter with Rèmy no longer crossed his mind.

Colin Creevy pulled him out of potions and walked him to the room where the other Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, Ollivander, and Rita Skeeter already waited. He sighed as the gaudy reporter went straight for him. The malicious gleam that entered her beady eyes when he refused a separate interview worried him for a second but then he shrugged it off. The rest of the wizarding world already thought he was a narcissistic glory hog. Whatever the witch wrote would be no different. The Headmasters and Headmistress entered soon after and the weighing continued.

Harry was proven right that night. A rush of owls flooded the Great Hall, carrying a special edition of the Daily Prophet. Harry rolled his eyes as read Skeeter's article. She barely mentioned the Gold Boy of Hufflepuff and part Veela in passing. A few paragraphs highlighted the Krum's various accomplishments, including the Bulgarian Seeker's recent match against Ireland during the Quidditch World Cup. When it came to Harry the reporter did exactly as he suspected. It wasn't said outright but she claimed he somehow managed to enter himself to gain more supporters in his quest to become the next Dark Lord or a in desperate plea for attention. His Parselmouth ability and all the commotion with his godfather's prison break the previous year were also brought up.

Within minutes apprehensive glances were thrown his way by those in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor as the Great Hall erupted with whispers. Shaking his head in amazement, Harry continued to eat his food and completely ignore everyone else. Yeah, the pain of people he'd believed to be his friend turning their backs on him had dulled over the past few days but that still didn't mean he liked being the center of attention. Especially negative attention.


They were nothing more than gullible sheep, following where led. Wizards and witches were no different from muggles, believing whatever information was tossed before them instead of thinking for themselves. If possible, Harry would have stayed out of wizarding affairs completely to leave them to their fate. And why shouldn't he? One minute he was The-Boy-Who-Lived, Savior of the wizarding world, and the next, a egotistical rising Dark Lord. The only thing fame was good for was a headache.

To bad Voldemort was so unreasonable, the teen thought. He could've won the war without breaking a sweat.

Harry stood as soon as he was full. He threw up a nonverbal, wandless shield to block a hex that would have given him extreme diarrhea for the next 24 hours as he strode out, choosing to not stick around. It wasn't like the girl would get punished. The Headmaster nor his head of house intervened when incidents occurred right in front of them. Why would any of the other professors lend a hand?

Madam Pince was reading at her desk when he entered the library. She nodded her head in greeting and went back to her tome when Harry did the same. He canceled the notice-me-not on his usual table. All his books, quills, and homework were exactly as he left them. For the hour or so, Harry focused on finishing up the half completed potions essay due the day, totally ignorant to his surroundings. It was the exact reason he almost fell out of his chair when he looked up to see the Leroche brothers sitting around the table, watching him.

"That wasn't funny!" he wheezed, clutching his chest tightly. All three laughed silently, slim bodies shaking from the force of it. While they laughed, Harry decided to study them as he took deep breaths to calm his racing heart and they continued to snicker. It was only fair after all.

While Sèraphin and Aurèle shared the same facial features, body structure, hair color, and golden skin tone as their brother, there were obvious differences. Rèmy's eyes were a stunning blue so pale, they were almost white. Sèraphin had glowing eyes of quicksilver that would raise the hackles of any werewolf. And Aurèle's golden gaze shone bright enough to rival the sun and just as intensely. The other two had the same rows of rings and studs in both ears like Rèmy, but unlike him, Aurèle had two bars in his left eyebrow and one in his nostril while Sèraphin had one in his nostril, two side-by-side in his plush lower lip, and Harry remembered the ball he saw in his tongue as chuckled. Rèmy still had his numerous braids. Aurèle's thick curls were the same blonde-brown and reached down his back. And Sèraphin's bob was much longer in the front than the back, the pale blonde almost touching his shoulders. Their beauty would only grow as they got older.

"Sooo," Harry said after his heart beat normally and their laughter stopped. "I assume you want something? I haven't spoken to any of you before all of this mess with the Tournament, and yet, here I am having my second conversation with you in less than a week."


The three brothers shared a look he couldn't interpret before Rèmy shook his head, the beads in his hair clinking together. "We don't want anything from you. I wanted to see how you were doing after Skeeter's article and these two followed me here."

Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion."My name came out of the Goblet over two weeks ago and now you want to have a conversation? Why?"

Rèmy raised his pierced brow. "Think about it. Would you have even tried to speak to us 'slimy snakes' without hostility, especially after Ron and Hermione were ignoring you?"

Harry pursed his lips. Rèmy was right and they both knew it. If either of them had tried to speak to him before, he would've took his anger out on them. Though he didn't want to admit it, most Slytherins were never previously rude or hostile, to him or anyone else, without another house provoking them first, especially Gryffindor. When the green eyed teen seriously thought about it, in most of Harry's fights with Malfoy, Ron often insulted the blonde first. Harry usually jumped in after whatever acerbic comment left the Slytherin's mouth.

"You have a point," Harry said grudgingly. "But still you haven't tried before, even before the Tournament."

"We couldn't," Rèmy told him.

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly that," Aurèle said. His voice was different from Rèmy's cool airiness. Gentle and warm, like the few hugs Harry had received from Sirius.

"Ron and Hermione made it impossible for anyone else to try to be close to you, even other Gryffindors. All Ron talked about is how the boy-who-lived was his best friend, and whenever anyone tried, he would sabotage them in some way. Hermione puts other people off with her know-it-all attitude. Eventually other people gave up."

Harry wanted to deny it but how could he? In Hermione's eyes, she was always right. It almost impossible to convince her otherwise. Ron's jealousy was the exact reason the two weren't on speaking terms.

The redhead could never understand how much Harry despised his notoriety because he wanted for himself. He wanted the fame, the fortune, and everything else that went along with it while he had the one thing Harry wanted most: a family. Yeah, he had his godfather. But until the dog animagus' name was cleared, their relationship was nothing more than fleeting visits and hurried Floo calls.

"Oh." Something occurred to him. "I thought none of you were friends with anyone else?"

Rèmy waved the comment away. "That's just a rumor. We have plenty of friends but we mainly talk to Neville, Fred, George, and Luna."

"Luna?"

Aurèle sighed as Sèraphin flicked through Harry's potions book. "Luna Lovegood, first year Ravenclaw. She's a little airheaded but a sweetheart. We know she's getting bullied by some of the other Ravenclaw girls but she won't tell us who."

Curious Harry asked, "Why? What would you do?"

Sèraphin looked up from the book and shared a grin with his brothers. It was malicious, bloodthirsty, and reminded Harry why he preferred to stay on their good side. "That's nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about," Rèmy told him blithely.

"Pretty little head," Harry said incredulously. "I'm not pretty. That title definitely belongs to the three of you."

"How sweet," Aurèle and Rèmy remarked simultaneously. Sèraphin snorted as he continued to look through the book.

And it was true. The triplets were way prettier than any of the students from Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts, even with the muggle dresses each wore beneath their school robes.

That was one thing Harry couldn't understand. The clothes they wore were nice, sure, but they were still for women. So why did they wear them? Did they want to be women? Harry shuddered at the thought. He was perfectly alright with his boy bits, thank you very much.

Maybe it was rude, especially since this was only his second time speaking with Rèmy and his first conversation with his brothers, but Harry wanted to know. He would rather ask now when they barely knew each other then bring it up accidentally later and possibly making a bigger ass of himself.

"Why is it you dress like women?"

"Why shouldn't we?" Aurèle asked right back.

He thought it was obvious. "Because they're women's clothes?"

It was the Sèraphin finally joined the conversation."Whoever said dresses and skirts and the like were only for women?" Sèraphin asked fiercely, his soft voice gliding over Harry's skin like chocolate. "Women wear pants, shorts, and other clothes that could be considered "manly" but put them on anyway because they like them. I see a dress I like, I wear it. I see pants I like, I wear them. I don't see a gender, only clothes." Rèmy and Aurèle nodded in agreement.

Harry paused. "I've never thought of it like that before."

Now he felt like an ass anyway. The first conversation he's had in weeks and he just possibly offended the other party. Though he'd told himself he was fine, it was lonely spending all day in the library because he had nowhere else to be. He'd missed conversing with other people. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when Rèmy smiled at him, reassuringly.

"Not many people do. It's easier to assume we want to be women instead of simply liking nice clothes. We wear what we want, whether it's for a man or woman. It's not our fault women's clothes happen to look and feel better."

"So you aren't a gay?" Harry asked and almost smacked himself in the face. It was annoying how blunt he could be sometimes.

"I am," Sèraphin said without hesitation or concern, finally closing the potions book. "Girls annoy me with their whining and squeaky voices and simpering." He shuddered. "I can't take it."

"Me either." Rèmy tilted his head to the side. "What about you Harry?"

"I guess with Voldemort coming after me," Harry was happy to see none of the brothers flinch or cower at the name like most wizards, "and all the other stuff that's happened the past three years, I haven't given it much thought. I know I find some girls and some boys attractive but other than that...", he shrugged. "I don't know."

"Me either," Aurèle told him. "I've only been attracted to one person, a guy, but I don't think it makes me gay? I'm not sure. It's not like it really matter right now. We're only fourteen. Still plenty of time left before my Soul Mark pops up."

Harry frowned. "I forgot about those."

If he were there, Uncle Vernon would call all of them freaks. Not just because of the brother's crossdressing or Harry's magic (though he would that rather comical shade of purple he became when he was angered beyond words). The fact that they could admit their attraction to the same sex was enough to condemn them in Vernon's eyes and Petunia agreed with her husband. His uncle would spend hours ranting about how unnatural homosexuals and the like were when Harry was younger. How they went against the bible and the church and everything else he perceived as normal. Harry never understood his logic for one reason: Soul Marks.

Magical or muggle, on a person's seventeenth birthday, their Soul Mark appeared. It could be on their face, neck, chest, back, wrists, or ankles. The Marks were always a name, an incomplete phrases, or a family crest or motto (most common for witches and wizards). There was no way to know if you're Soulmate (for muggles) or Bonded (for magicals) would be male or female, human or being. It wasn't controllable but Vernon and those like him believed otherwise.

Harry realized the library had grown quieter. He cast a quick tempus and started to pack up his belongings. They would miss curfew if they didn't leave soon. "We should go. It's almost curfew."

"Ah that's right." The brothers stood and Rèmy looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Don't worry about Skeeter, Harry. She won't be a problem any longer."

Harry snorted in disbelief. "Rita Skeeter is like a roach infestation. No matter how hard you try, you can't get rid of her. Beside it's too late. Now most of the world thinks I'm nothing but attention-hogging baby Dark Lord thanks to her."

Rèmy, Aurèle, and Sèraphin smiled. It wasn't particularly as nasty as earlier but neither was it warm. Secretive.

They waved goodbye and left. Harry shook his head, packed up the rest of his things, and unenthusiastically trudged to the Gryffindor dorms. He had enjoyed the conversation with the brothers. They were odd but also fascinating. He would like to talk to them again but wasn't holding his breath.

Harry's mouth dropped as he read the title of the Daily Prophet the next morning. SECRET UNREGISTERED ANIMAGUS, RITA SKEETER, CAUGHT RED HANDED! He looked across the Hall to see the Leroches staring at him, sporting the same secretive smile from the night before.


Needless to say after Hagrid pulled Harry aside later on that week, he stood beside Hagrid while under his Invisibility Cloak, shocked. Before them, the dragons roared angrily as their handlers worked to get them under control. A chill ran down his spine when Rèmy's words from almost a week ago ran through his mind.

"Dragons are much more intelligent than wizards acknowledge. Hungarian Horntails have one of the worst tempers of all dragonkind. Efforts to deceive them is a great offense and angers them almost as much as trying to take what they see as theirs. Sometimes it's simply best to ask."

I should probably listen to them.