Published at 27th of May 2024 12:15 am

Chapter 236: Of Blooming Flowers

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10 August 1994, Quidditch Trillenium Stadium, England

Fleur Delacour didn't want to be there. She didn't particularly like Quidditch. The sport just lacked grace. She preferred Broom Racing. Now, that was a fascinating sport, that pushed broom makers to make improvements every year, and where competitors had to be both precise and graceful to win. Quidditch felt like a sport created by barbarians, who had no idea what they were doing. It was like a few friends just started to throw around balls and asked their smaller siblings to catch a golden bird so that they wouldn't bother them.

She suppressed a chuckle at the thought. That was probably the most accurate depiction of how the sport came to be.

The young Veela walked slowly towards the tent of her father's friend. Even in France, the Black family was infamous for their cruelty and madness, and it was surprising to hear that her father was close to its patriarch. In a way the way they met made sense, war was a place for cruelty and madness to flourish. Still, if her father trusted the man, she would give him the benefit of the doubt.

What she did not appreciate was being forced to babysit the man's ward, a boy three years her junior. She understood exactly what her father wanted, a way to secure a connection with a boy who would inherit his friend's wealth, but there was a hidden command to charm him.

She hated this, using her allure to force people to like her. It was something that plagued her many times in school, where she was followed by gawking boys and earned their girlfriends' ire. Even without meaning to, people were immediately drawn to her. She had learned to ignore it, but her father often urged her to actively use it to make it better.

Her mother did, after all. She was her father's secret weapon and had mastered the art of getting people to agree with her without doing anything inappropriate. She used her allure with the precision of a scalpel, finding vulnerabilities and exploiting them easily.

However, Fleur did not want to use her allure like her. She wanted to be more than a Veela. She wanted to be recognized for her talent, for her skills instead of her nature. It was why she was planning on participating in the European Tournament. It was her ticket out of her father's thumb, and her mother's influence.

She could only hope to become an example that Gabrielle would, one day, choose to follow.

She needed to succeed more than anything.

But until then, she had to obey her father and charm the boy.

A part of her couldn't help but pity him. She had seen what happened to the people her mother charmed and let go. They kept thinking of her for the rest of their lives, desperately hoping that she would give them a sliver of attention, and when she ignored them for enough time, they fell into a deep depression…

Fleur arrived at the rather large tent, her silver hair flowing behind her. She looked perfect, not that it was surprising.

She could do this. She needed to.

Then why wasn't she entering the tent? Why did she feel so guilty?

She didn't know how long she spent like this, prepping herself to enter the tent, but she stiffened when she heard a voice behind her speaking in English, "Are you alright?"

The boy looked a couple of years younger than her, slim, but there was a spark of knowing and intelligence in his eyes. Yet, the smile he wore was kind and the French witch couldn't help but relax slightly.

Still, Fleur put a fake smile on her face and spoke up, "Just lost in thought."

She cringed slightly at the sound that came out of her mouth. She did learn English at her father's behest, but her accent was very heavy, and according to her tutors, very hard to understand.

To her surprise, the boy continued the conversation in perfect French, "Well, they must be some very complex thoughts to keep you here for so long. You know, they say that talking about your problems is an easy way to order your mind."

She thought about just ignoring him and just entering the tent, but the fact that the boy wasn't staring at her, or drooling intrigued her. It was the sign of a strong mind, after all, and Fleur wasn't one to waste a quality conversation, even if it was with a stranger, "I don't think a stranger is the best person to share my private thoughts with."

The boy simply shrugged, "Personally, I think a stranger is the best person to do it with. In a few weeks, we both would have probably forgotten about our conversation."

"I'm still not talking to you about it!" Fleur responded hotly.

"I didn't tell you to. So, what's a witch your age going to see Arcturus Black of all people."

"That's not any of your business."

The British boy grinned mischievously, "Oh, so it's like that? I didn't think the old man had it in him."

It took a few seconds for Fleur to realize what the boy was implying and spluttered in anger, "It's not like that! What did you think I was?"

"An attractive young woman going to visit a rich old man on her own… It's not hard to make the connection."

"Well, it's not like that. My father is an old friend of his and he asked me to come."

The boy shrugged, "Sure, whatever you say."

"I am telling the truth."

"And I believe you," the young wizard retorted back with a dry tone before changing the subject entirely, "You're going to Beauxbattons, right?"

"Yes," she simply replied, not knowing where he was going with this…

"What is it like? I was going to transfer there this year, but I changed my mind. However, I admit to being a little curious about the place."

"Oh, it's beautiful, but it's very focused on the arts. It was built based on the Chateaux of Versailles, and we're divided into three houses, Bellefeuille for the lovers of nature and have a strong sense of bravery and loyalty, Papillonlisse for the naturally gifted in the arts, both visual and musical, and they are thoughtful of all others around them as well as kind and gentle, and Ombrelune for the cool and calculating students who are averse to irrationality and prize people who make well thought-out and logical decisions. I'm a member of the Ombrelune."

"That's interesting. Our houses in Hogwarts focus on similar qualities."

Fleur scoffed, "You're seriously comparing your school to Beauxbattons? The very centre of elegance and magic of France, where countless artists from all over the world hope to join the faculty. Our school is very selective, and I don't remember there being any transfer students in my time there. I doubt Madame Maxime would have accepted you anyway."

The boy smirked, "I think I would have been more than good enough, but I prefer Hogwarts to be honest. Your artsy academy is all nice and all, but our school has character. It's filled with secrets upon secrets, knowledge older than your very school, and one of the best libraries in the world."

Fleur had to admit that the young wizard did have a point regarding the library. Hogwarts probably had more magical knowledge than the rest of the magical schools of Europe put together. To be fair, it had more to do with the fact that the castle had never fallen than anything.

However, most of Europe experienced a lot of strife in the past few centuries. The French Revolution against the nobility, which was spearheaded by mostly muggleborns, ended a lot of family lines and destroyed most family libraries. That's not even mentioning the purges in Russia. There were barely any old families there anymore. There was a reason why Britain was a powerhouse and that was the fact that a lot of their oldest families still survive to this day, including their infamous family crests.

Magical schools in this era just were not old enough to accumulate libraries as large as Hogwarts. It was why Fleur wanted to enter a Guild after her graduation, and why she needed to have a good showing in the European Tournament.

Still, she was not going to take the boy's words lying down, "What an uncultured way of thinking. Perhaps we do not have the largest library, but every book in it has invaluable knowledge. Can you say the same about yours?"

Instead of looking offended, the boy smiled, "Perhaps you are correct. We'll never know for sure. Your school must have some kind of redeeming qualities considering the bracelet you're wearing. Very interesting indeed. Some kind of emotional detection, which emotion exactly, I'm not sure. There's also the secondary function acting as a way to store a certain kind of energy using jewel craft, very interesting. And anchored by ancient Greek runes too, now, that's not something I see every day. Not professional by any means, but very impressive for a student. Are you aiming to be an enchantress?"

The Veela froze at the stranger's words. This was disturbingly accurate. The bracelet was her masterpiece, the artefact that she created and wanted to off to her professors, hoping for a recommendation to either the Charms guild or the guild of enchanters. Its main purpose was to contain her passive allure and store the magic it released into an arrangement of rubies, which powered another spell that detected people with violent intent, geared towards lust. Yes, this could limit her allure, but it tended to be overwhelming when she actively cast magic, and Fleur was still inhumanly beautiful, even with the allure contained.

She had made it mostly for Gabrielle's sake, hoping that her little sister wouldn't have to deal with what Fleur herself experienced in school. Gabrielle was an innocent little girl and she wanted to keep it that way.

But how did the boy discern all of this with just a glance? No one, not even her father, had noticed the bracelet's true functions, dismissing it to be a fancy bit of jewellery, "How did you know?"

"The enchanter bit, well, the bracelet is a bit too niche to be mass produced and frankly the jewel craft is more than a little inefficient for a certified master to have made it as a custom job. That means that you're the one who enchanted it, and that amount of dedication to a field of magic means that you would want to pursue it. Hence your desire to become an enchantress."

"No, I meant how you knew how my bracelet worked?"

The boy's green eyes twinkled mischievously, "You did very well to engrave the runes, but you didn't do a good job at black boxing it with an illusion because it's connected to the same jewels that power the rest of the enchantments. That meant that the illusion failed when it was actively being used and the jewel was overwhelmed whenever it dealt with too much magic. The runes glow and that makes it easy to decipher them. You could fix that by using a jewel specifically dedicated to power the illusion, but you'd have to make sure to deal with any interactions the two enchantments could have since they could be on completely different runic schemes. Personally, I'd recommend using a shape transmutation layer of any neutral material that would cover the bracelet with a very thin layer, covering up all the enchantments. Of course, you'd have to modify the runes a bit to make sure it ignores the layer, but you wouldn't have to worry about it being overwhelmed…"

Fleur was frozen trying to process what the boy had just said. In the end, she could only settle on, "Who are you?"

The boy opened his mouth the answer, only for her father to exit the tent with a wide smile on his face, "Ah, Mr. Potter. I see that you have met my daughter, Fleur."

This was Harry Potter? As in her target, Harry Potter? The boy her father asked her to charm. She was just too stupefied to answer.

The boy didn't seem surprised by her name and simply answered, "Yes, she's been a delight. You have raised a very talented witch, Mr. Delacour."

"I am very proud of her. Well, I dare say if we're any later, Apolline would have my hide. I did promise I'd be home for dinner. We'd best be off."

Fleur followed her father to her tent, feeling confused, and lost, but also anxious. She had no idea how her father was going to react after she'd told him about their conversation.

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