Two Minds, One Wand - Chapter Forty One

Hey guys. Another Friday, another chapter. Harry's got his work cut out for him this chapter, dealing with the scariest opponent of all - a crying girl.

Glad you liked the Marie image, next up is Bellatrix as requested, though not sure when that'll be. I'm slowing down the artwork in order to concentrate on making Two Minds chapters great, and also making a new HP story for you all to enjoy.

Here's an excerpt from the new story, to whet the appetite. It's tentatively named The Potter Patrol. Hope you enjoy. There's no release date yet, as there's a lot more to write, but I just want you to know that there's more good stuff coming down the pipeline. If you like it, let me know!

Have a great week - and thanks so much for your support. It means the world.

P.S. Next Two Minds chapter after this may land on the Saturday 10th, rather than Friday. Probably late Friday, but it might slip into Saturday. 

P.S. New ASFAS chapter is coming either very late today or tomorrow, sorry.

____

Harry punched Ron in the arm as he saw Fleur stand up from the Ravenclaw table. She headed towards them, and it was like she was walking in slow-motion. The starry sky of the Great Hall cast her in a spotlight that followed her as she walked, a catwalk of her own making.

Harry swallowed. Was this what love felt like?

And then she was there, standing right next to them.

Ron choked. Neville stared at her chest so hard that Fleur hesitated, drawing her robes tighter with one hand.

"Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

A long curtain of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist, her large deep blue eyes turning to each of them.

"It’s all yours. I love bouillabaisse but I’m afraid we don’t do it as well over here. Still, it might warm you up." said Harry, pushing the dish toward the girl.

She gave him a smile, showing very white teeth.

"Zank you. It is to be expected, non? France does everyzing better."

Neville made a strange gurgling sound. Harry crossed his fingers and hoped his friend wouldn’t start dribbling.

Fleur gave Neville a strange look, before picking up the dish and carrying it away.

“Smooth, guys.” Harry scowled at his friends. Seamus had his fist in his mouth.

Dean snorted. “Give me a break, Harry. I’ll give you four galleons if you can tell me what bouillabaisse is.”

“Fuck off.” Harry grinned. “I’ll give you five galleons if you tell Katie that you stole her panties from the locker room while we were playing Quidditch.”

Dean spat out his soup, neatly spraying Ron’s face, who didn’t even notice, goggling after Fleur as she sank gracefully into the benches of the Ravenclaw table.

“That’s a secret we said we’d take to the grave!” Dean hissed, pounding the table. “It was a moment of weakness.”

Seamus elbowed his friend. “If it was a moment of weakness, you should have given them back.”

Neville took a deep breath, his skin returning to a color almost normal. “He couldn’t, after what he did to them.”

Harry burst out laughing. Dean hid his face in his hands. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”

“You didn’t Pact-Protect it.” Seamus pointed out.

Harry grabbed Ron’s chin and swivelled it back — people were starting to notice.

“We only get one secret to Pact-Protect!” Dean complained. “And I used it for—”

“Hermione alert.” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Hi, guys.” Hermione laid her satchel on the table and sat down. “What are we talking about? Ron, you’ve got soup on your face.”

“Harry’s love of bouillabaisse.” Dean said.

“Yeah, he’s a real Francophile.” Neville sniggered.

Hermione looked impressed. “I didn’t think you’d like fish soup, Harry.”

Harry glared at Dean. “I’m multifaceted. I’m an academic and a Quidditch player too, you know. Oh, speaking of Quidditch, Katie-” Harry called down the table loudly.

“No, don’t!” Dean gasped.

“-what time is practice this week?”

“Eight in the morning, like always.” Katie gave him an odd look.

“Just checking.” Harry nodded.

“You’re such a fuck.” Dean patted his sweaty face with his napkin.

“Language, Dean.” Hermione chided. “Ron, for goodness’ sake, clean your face. We have guests in the Hall. I don’t know what those sophisticated French girls will think of us.”

“They won’t think of us at all.” Ron said gloomily.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Harry threw his arm around his friend’s shoulders, staring over at the Ravenclaw table. The French beauty glanced back at him, meeting his eyes, before quickly looking away. “I think this is going to be a good year for the Potter Patrol.”

“For the last time, Harry, you gowl, that’s not our name!” Seamus growled. “I said we could be named the Pussy Patrol!”

“Very misogynistic.” Hermione frowned. “I expected better from you all.”

“Sorry, Hermione.” They chorused, like it was muscle memory.

The boys looked to one another, guilty faces turning to smirks. As Dumbledore stood up and began a speech on inter-school cooperation, Harry looked to each of his best friends. Through thick and thin, these were his boys.

These were the lads. The friends he’d always wanted, the cameraderie he didn’t have at St. Grogory’s Primary School.

He nodded at them, their unspoken pact fizzled into being. “This is the year.” He mouthed.

Neville’s jaw set firmly as he looked across to the Hufflepuff table, at Hannah. “This is the year.”

Seamus exhaled a long breath. “This is the year.”

Ron’s face reddened. “Hogwarts is magic, right? I can be anyone I want to be, in front of foreign girls. This is the year.”

Dean looked at Katie. “This is the year.”

Harry smiled. He didn’t just want to get laid. He wanted Fleur, more than anything.

She was older, out of his league, unbelievably beautiful.

Maybe he could charm her.

Maybe he could learn a little French.

Maybe he could get his name into the Tournament, become Hogwarts champion.

Hell, maybe he could win the whole thing.

But he knew, even if he failed, even if they all failed, he had all he needed right here.

The lads.

The Potter Patrol.