Disclaimer: How many times… Oh, alright. I don't own Harry Potter, Les Miserablés and all subsidiary characters, places and the like.

A/N: This one is for astoryinred. "So why am I writing like it's running out of style?" The muses are a bunch of funny beings, that's why. This is one of the side stories for Lethifold-verse. Do enjoy and leave a note if it was alright, if it sucked or if it was so-so. I'd love to hear from you guys too.

The Immovable Mind

Jean Valjean watches Cosette brighten up the room with an orb of light that appears from her fingertips. The shy eight-year-old girl smiles triumphantly at her creation, after having another nightmare about her late mother Fantine.

"Are you ready to go to sleep now, Euphrasie?"

"Yes, father. I am ready to sleep. Thank you for always being there, dad." Cosette replies, as Jean brings up her comforters and watches his adopted child sleep once more.

"I hope I can be there always. Your mother would have been proud to have seen you grow." Valjean tells himself as he goes back downstairs to continue tinkering with his old desktop computer. Before he goes further into his thoughts about his old field operative friend, he hears a pop from around the front door. Slowly crouching down, he picks up the nearest item which happens to be his trusty garden trowel.

'It must be one of those stick-wielding folks again, every time Euphrasie Cosette does magic.' He thought, hiding behind the shadows around his house.

He sees one woman tap the doorknob from the backdoor with a wand and the locks Jean placed all unlocked seamlessly. At the same time, another one managed to do the same thing with the doors on the front door.

"Hominis Revelio. There are two people here, one magical and one mundane. Remember, oblivate only." The witch nearby mutters and receives a solid hit on the nape with the flat side of Jean's trowel, knocking her out cold.

The ruckus alerts her companion that they've been spotted. A red light flies towards Jean, who sidesteps it, moving towards the attacker and nimbly dodges the spells heading his way. The last thing the oblivator saw is the resolute eyes of Jean Valjean and the simple garden trowel that slammed into his temple.

The morning after in the French Ministry of Magic, Alexandré Du Pont is given a wide berth by everyone in the hallways. His furious countenance further subdues those not easily cowed by his battle-hardened appearance or reputation as a no-nonsense oblivator and now head of the Magical Genardarmerie and Auror corps of France.

In his office, two of his best oblivators come in with concussions. A black bruise is spotted on the wizard's face. Giving them a blank look from his chair, he leans closer and with a cold stare he says, "Explain."

The two glanced at each other in a battle of wills as to who would be the unlucky sod to explain the incident. The wizard with the bruise eventually gave way and replies, "Sir, Nicolette and I went in, text book pincer manoeuvre executed to perfection. But the target got Nicolette out of the running almost immediately. I fired stunners at the man but he moved like a jaguar and caught me with the trowel before I could get him with a point blank stunner."

Du Pont squeezes the bridge of his nose in frustration and mutters, "This is the fifth time in a week and a total of thirty in a month. We'll be the laughing stock of the ICW at this rate. Pierre, you and Nicolette will be in my training room after half an hour. Prepare yourself because we're going to go there again in three squads. I'm just going to vent out some steam."

As their boss said those words, Nicolette almost burst into tears while Pierre is failing at suppressing a shudder of fear.

"You two are dismissed. I'll see you later." Alexandré orders and his two finest oblivators left the office so fast that one would think that the very devils of hell were chasing after them. 'The Magical Genardarmerie did not back down from Grindelwald in the Second World War or Voldemort in two wizarding wars in England. It's time to see what they're frightened of. For one, we can't risk another incident where they did not oblivate someone. Maximillian Robespierre made the guillotine as a witch hunt posing as a political assassination tool.'

A week later, Cosette summons her copy of Matilda wandlessly under the watchful eye of Jean, who pats her head appreciatively as she begins to read quietly inside her room. Jean takes it as a signal to leave her to her own space and go back to series of barbells in front of his garden.

This time, he hears the patter of five men each in the north, south west and south east ends of his house. Jean decides to head up to the garden where there's a couple of blind spots he will be able to take advantage of. Taking his garden trowel on the nearby windowsill outside, he hides expertly with barely a few seconds to spare.

"Just two people, one's a witch and another one just some muggle that's not related to her. You think Pierre and Nicolette are just blowing off smoke?" A young man wearing a crimson cloak asks and earns him a smack in the back of the head by the stern woman covering their rear. "I got hit by a fence post of all things and never saw it coming. Stay frosty and watch your six."

Just as those words were said, the obliviator in the back got hit by the garden trowel in the back. The squad leader noticed and fired a quick stunning spell before everyone else. The spell lands on the body flying at her. Her stunned comrade knocked her out too before she could apparate. By the time the last three hand their spells at the tip of their lips, Jean was already at them. A boot to the solar plexus, a garden trowel to the chin and a swinging left hook to the temple disable the other three. Jean runs back inside the house with the sounds of birds chirping behind him as if nothing happened.

On the southwest, by the front door, three obliviators take point scanning the area. "All clear," the one in the middle says.

"Alright, let's move." A deep voice replies, tapping a bandage on his cheek. "Bravo Team in, Count. Proceeding to rendezvous point. Any word on Charlie team?"

"Negative, assume they have been brought down so be on guard." The voice of Alexandré Du Pont could be hear.

"Oui, over and out," said the leader of the Bravo team. He looks behind him and without warning, had the wind on his chest knocked out and received a swinging forearm to the chin. Before his vision turns to black, he sees the man who gave him nightmares for the past week incapacitate everyone in his team in a minute flat using holding only mundane barbells, as his squib brother calls it, on both hands.

"Bravo Team, come in Bravo Team!" Du Pont calls out and his eyes narrow as they make to the front of the other entrance in the house. "Assume they're down. Pierre and Nicolette, you two go with me. You two" pointing to the other two with him, "guard the rear."

A minute of silence passes on their approach. Unknown to Alexandré, the singing of the larks near Cosette's room disguises the sound of one of his rear guard being incapacitated by a the computer mouse cord. The other one rendered unconscious by the strength of the disabling chop by the thin bit of the keyboard. As the leader of the Alpha team looks back, he doesn't see the read guard anymore. Before his team could react, a computer display monitor catches Pierrer and Nicolette unaware. A body catches Alexandré in the mid section and knocks him back out to the garden.

Before finding himself tackled to the ground, he spins out of the way and guards his face and midsection with his hands. 'Who ever said wizards shouldn't fight with their fists is a complete and utter moron.' He muses as he nimbly dodges Jean's fists after his boxing instincts kick in.

The seasoned director manages to land a solid punch to the chin but it doesn't take out his target. A dirty white CPU nearly clips him but he evades it swiftly.

Alexandré dodges the right backhand and aims the wand on Jean's temple. A swift left hook to his armpit makes him drop the wand before the spell leaves the tip. A boot hits his knee and he falls down to the grass outside, followed by the CPU hitting him square on the stomach. He lets out a groan of pain and realizes that the man he faced today is a force of nature.

"Now, will you quit coming into my home? I am aware my young ward is a witch because her mother left me this note before that mission which got her killed." Jean remarks with his boot on top of a tired and beaten Du Pont. He then takes the letter from his coat pocket and Alexandré immediately recognizes the handwriting.

"Fantine, mon dieu!" Alexandré exclaims as his eyes became downcast at the very thought of his favorite protégé and field operative. 'I failed her. I should have done a truth serum on Felix when he led us to the Deatheater trap.'

Jean takes his foot off the last wizard and gives him back his wand. "I gave her my vow to take care of Cosette. What is your name?"

"I am Alexandré Du Pont, the head of the Magical Genardarmerie and Aurors. We do have our own police and government too. Normally, I would have to erase your memories because we have to keep our world separate from yours, but…"

The battle-worn warrior in him recognizes that Fantine would never have trusted someone who couldn't protect her daughter. He realizes the folly of separating the man and his ward. "I'll let you off the hook and tell everyone to back off immediately from you. I'd like to know the name of the man who defeated me with honor."

"My name is Jean Valjean and I vow to keep your world a secret for Cosette and Fantine's sake." Jean replies as the two men shake hands and Alexandré apparates away with all his team transfigured into a neat pile of matchboxes inside his pocket.

Jean smiles approvingly and goes back to Cosette who is asleep in her bed with a book on how to draw horses.

In the Ministry, for the first time in centuries, someone places a name on the oblivation blacklist. Alexandré waves his wand and the following appears on the almost-nondescript piece of parchment.

Oblivation Blacklist

1. Jean Valjean – Euphrasie Cosette (ward)

Threat level: Mordred (Highest level)

Orders: Flee on sight and do not attempt oblivation.

Everyone becomes silent as Du Pont walks back into his office with shoulders slumped in defeat.