CHAPTER 1:

A MUCH-AWAITED REUNION

About a year ago, Fleur Delacour was, much to her annoyance, riding on the Knight Bus, a British mode of magical transport of considerable discomfort. The best thing that she could say about the experience was that she got to meet a new friend, in the form of the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. Now, she was in a situation where discomfort had to be endured once more.

It wasn't the fact that they were sleeping in a tent on a field. Magical tents were bigger on the inside than they were on the outside (her father made a remark in passing about a British Muggle television series about a time-travelling alien called Doctor Who, and had given her a moderately interesting book based on the series called Docteur Who: Les Daleks(1)), and were stocked with every amenity that would be needed. It was comfortable and decent, and she was here with her family, meaning her father Hercule, her mother Apolline, and her little sister Gabrielle.

It wasn't the fact that she had only a moderate interest in Quidditch, despite being at the Quidditch World Cup. She had enough of an interest to be able to enjoy watching the final match, which was to be between Ireland and Bulgaria. And in any case, their tickets had been paid for by a grateful Sirius Black, who had been exonerated by her father last year, and it would mean spending a little more time with Harry Potter, a boy with whom she felt a bond of friendship (and more? Perhaps) forming. He had nearly died in a ritual designed to remove some foul piece of magic from him, and she had felt herself slowly dying while she waited.

But there were plenty of things to complain about. Leaving aside the choice of venue, where the stadium and the tents were put up in an open field that soon got churned to a muddy slurry by a large number of feet, there were the things here and there that spoke of this event being organised almost entirely solo by Ludo Bagman. Fleur's friend Marie had once used an apt if crude English idiom to describe him: that he couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery. And as crude as that was, Fleur could see firsthand that it was an understatement.

The Muggle owners of the field had to be frequently Obliviated, and Fleur wouldn't be surprised if the poor people ended up drooling vegetables for weeks afterwards. Most of the wizards and witches present, despite admonishments to look more like Muggles for camouflage, did so with variable success at best (she saw one of the officials dressed in a kilt and a poncho, for Merlin's sake!). Fleur felt that she blended in better than the vast majority of those present: while she seldom wore Muggle clothes, she knew how to wear them. And while the clothes she was wearing (a T-shirt with the words Enfant Terrible(2) on it, and jeans) were rather vulgar and far from haute couture, she secretly enjoyed wearing them on occasion. It was fun, she thought at times, to wear the T-shirt. She had once done so for a dare from Marie, and actually found it mildly liberating. Plus, how many of the British wizards would get it? Her mother thought it unbecoming, but her father thought it an enjoyable joke, and Fleur resolved to continue wearing it when the mood took her. As it was, there was a delegation from Beauxbatons somewhere, and she would have to avoid being there, if only to avoid annoying Madame Maxime.

Another objection she had were the Bulgarian cheerleaders. The Veela cheerleaders were amongst the most shameless of her people, often resorting to their allure to get their own way, and transforming and hurling fireballs when they didn't. Not that the leprechauns who were the Irish cheerleaders were that much better: they were known for their crude and puerile insults.

And then, there were the people gawking at her. It was hard for part-Veelas to control their allures, and she never got the ability to dial it completely down. The fact that part-Veelas tended to be far more attractive than normal people didn't help. She loved being beautiful, but she didn't love attracting the attention of idiots, as well as bigots who thought of Veela and their brood as subhuman temptresses. More than a few men gawked at her as she walked by, and she heard at least one wolf-whistle. It certainly wasn't the T-shirt that they were gawking at, but what it covered.

It was as she was passing the encampment of the Bulgarians that it happened. One of the Bulgarian Quidditch Team stepped out in front of her, a burly man who was probably a Beater. "Hey, beautiful lady," he purred in English (or tried to: his thick accent ruined the effect). "You want to spend time with me?"

"No," Fleur said. She knew that this one, however, was going to be persistent.

"Why not? Your people are like that, are they not?"

"Volkov," growled a voice from nearby. That same voice then spoke in sullen Bulgarian, and Fleur turned to find that the one who had interrupted this awkward (to say the least) conversation was none other than Viktor Krum. Volkov flung his hands into the air, and snapped off a few angry words in Bulgarian, before retreating to his tent to sulk.

Krum then turned to Fleur. Intense and sullen of features, looking vaguely vulture-like. "My apologies," he said in his own thick accent. "Volkov tends to have…relations with our cheerleaders. He has a…thing, I believe, for Veela."

"De rien," Fleur said, shaking her head. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Krum."

"Viktor, please. Unfortunately, you are not the first part-Veela who had tried to refuse him. May I ask your name?"

"Fleur Delacour."

"Delacour…I know that name from somewhere…" Krum then snapped his fingers in realisation. "Your father…he is the one who cleared the name of Sirius Black last year, is he not?"

"Indeed. It is only his latest achievement." She frowned. "You go to Durmstrang, do you not?"

Krum nodded. "And you, presumably, go to Beauxbatons."

"You have heard the rumours?"

Krum chuckled. "More than rumours. I intend to enter the Tournament, if that is what you refer to."

"As do I, Viktor."

"I wonder who would become Champion of Hogwarts, then?"

"Nobody I know, though there is a boy I know who would be good, if he was old enough to," Fleur admitted.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter."

"The Boy Who Lived? Do you think he is that good?"

"I do not know, but he is certainly someone you should keep an eye on, should you ever play Quidditch at Hogwarts. He is Seeker for their Gryffindor House, and apparently an excellent one at that."

"You know him?"

"We have met a few times," she said, smiling. "You would not know who he is by his demeanour, though."

"Hmm. Well, I look forward to Hogwarts, then. Goodbye, Fleur Delacour." And with that, he moved away.

Fleur decided to head back to her family's tent. As interesting as it was to meet Viktor Krum, one of the most famous Seekers in the world, the encounter with that Beater (Ivan Volkov, if the surname was any indication) had given her some incentive to return. And Harry would be arriving before long.

Yes, Harry. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. A boy ill at ease with the fame that had sprung up when he supposedly, at the age of one, defeated Voldemort. In truth, Fleur accepted what her father thought: that one or both of Harry's parents had found some obscure ritual that saved their child, possibly at the cost of their lives. The real Harry was a somewhat shy, but compassionate and at times perceptive boy only a few years her junior. A chance meeting on the Knight Bus had led to correspondence, and in time, to friendship. And it seemed that it might be leading to something more. Fleur felt it.

She got to the tent to find her father, a portly bearded man smiling. "How was your walk, Fleur?" he asked in French.

"Fine enough," she said. "But some Bulgarian Beater tried to accost me. Would you believe it was Viktor Krum who stopped him?"

"Ah, Viktor Krum, one of the most famous Seekers in the world." Hercule Delacour chuckled jovially. "Not one you would expect to be a knight in shining armour as far as looks are concerned, but he's a lad of hidden depths, that one. By the way, Marie and Audrey came around not long ago, looking for you. They're waiting inside."

"Thanks, Father. Have Harry and his friends arrived?"

"Not yet. Sirius opted to take the Weasleys with him from their home at Ottery St Catchpole, and use a Portkey. I asked those involved…not that imbecile Bagman, but someone who's not incompetent, when they are expected. It should be within a few minutes. Actually, I believe that he was another Weasley. An officious sort, but he's doing well under Madam Baum."

In the wake of Barty Crouch Senior's death, a new Head for the Department of International Magical Cooperation had to be found in a hurry, her father had explained on the way here. Amber Baum(3) was one of Crouch's seasoned underlings, and despite being a Muggleborn (and thus a relative novelty in the Ministry of Magic in any senior position), managed to get promoted to being the head of the department. It was probably because she had an excellent command of languages both human and magical creature-related (like Mermish or Gobbledegook), like her former boss, and she had a gift for diplomacy. Plus, there'd be few other candidates willing to take up what was seen as a dead-end post by many in the Ministry.

Fleur nodded, before she went into the tent. The red-headed and rambunctious Marie was waiting there, grinning cheekily upon seeing her T-shirt. "Hey-hey, you're wearing it!"

Audrey, meanwhile, was astonished. "I still can't believe Marie conned you into wearing that!"

"Who said it was a con? It was a dare. Anyway, on occasion, I will wear it. Just not around Madame Maxime," Fleur said. "So, are you two ready to meet Harry Potter and his friends?"

Marie yelped, "Hell yeah!" Audrey said nothing, but Fleur saw the faint smile and the slight fidgeting the glasses-wearing girl was doing. Fleur knew that Audrey was looking forward to meeting Ronald Weasley, her pen-pal, in person. Over the last little while, they had been playing postal chess, and Audrey had even started Ron on the Japanese chess-like game Shogi.

Still, they had that much to look forward to. And Fleur would get to talk to her friend again. Perhaps even friends. She certainly liked Harry's friend, Hermione, especially as the girl's French was pretty good, and while Ron hadn't reacted well to Fleur's allure the first (and to date, only) time they had met in person, she also knew he was good for Audrey.

It would be good to see them again.


It had been a tense, but relatively peaceful summer, Harry Potter reflected. Sirius had words with Vernon Dursley briefly at the station. Then, the next day, he came around to 4 Privet Drive. His hair and beard, while eccentric, were immaculately groomed, and he was dressed in a suit that, while not exactly business-like, nonetheless satisfied (barely) the Dursley criteria for 'normality'. He certainly looked more like a Muggle than a wizard, which was probably the only reason Petunia deigned to have the man in the house.

Sirius had laid things out bluntly: he didn't like the fact that Harry had to stay here, in a cold environment that reminded him too much of his own home. But he also knew of the blood wards. So he told Petunia that he would be living nearby during the summer, and once the blood wards had gone through their recharging period, he would be taking Harry from the Dursleys for the rest of the summer. He also told Petunia in no uncertain terms what he thought of her, and what Lily would have thought, had she been alive.

"Once Voldemort has been dealt with," he had said, "I intend to take Harry from this household. And while I don't expect him to be treated like a prince, I will certainly not be happy if you continue to treat my godson like a House Elf. It's taking everything I can not to hex you so hard, you'll be oozing pus everywhere for the rest of your life."

Sirius' threat had hit home, and while Harry still pretty much did a lot of the chores, and endured many bitter remarks from his relatives, a tentative truce of sorts had come about. It wasn't soon enough, though, that Sirius came to fetch him, and while he had been staying at the house of Arabella Figg (who turned out to be a Squib) during that time, Sirius brought Harry back to his ancestral home of 12 Grimmauld Place. Since his pardon, Sirius had worked overtime to clean the place up, and while it still had a rather verbose portrait of his mother and a grouchy, ancient House Elf called Kreacher, it was certainly getting better than it used to be, according to Sirius.

Kreacher's relationship with Sirius, the White Sheep of the Black family, significantly improved once Harry had divulged the location of the Horcrux there, in the form of a locket. Kreacher, who was intensely loyal to Sirius' brother Regulus, had tearfully confessed the truth, and Sirius promised to help destroy the Horcrux. Kreacher, upon learning that his old master's death would be avenged, warmed a little to Sirius, and while the relationship between the two was still fractious, it was better than it had been for years, even when Sirius was still part of the Black family.

During this time, Harry got a crash course in Occlumency, being told to study the theory intensely and practise the exercises by Sirius. It was difficult, true, but if it meant actually being allowed in on some of the secrets that had been kept from him, then he would do so, especially as Death had told him where the Horcruxes were.

But it wasn't all study and homework (though he had to do some of it for Hogwarts, including the hated Potions homework). Sirius had taken him out on excursions to places Harry hadn't been to (the Dursleys invariably refused to sign any consent forms for school excursions before Hogwarts, and Vernon had used his signing of the Hogsmeade form to try and make Harry behave while Marge was visiting last year), like the Ministry of Magic, the Tower of London, Diagon Alley, the National Museum, and Westminster Abbey. In addition, his godfather regaled him with tales of the Marauders, as well as anecdotes about his parents. And there was a mirror call with Fleur.

A week later, Hermione and her parents arrived, along with Lupin. The two parents were curious to be inside a wizarding home, though they seemed grateful that Sirius and Lupin were relatively normal, and didn't look at them with astonishment, bemusement, or contempt. They also learned quickly not to rouse Walburga Black's portrait, who screamed at her son for allowing 'filthy Muggles and Mudbloods' into her home.

Then, the day came to head to the Burrow. They stayed there overnight (Sirius had been amused to discover Fred and George Weasley's ambitions to open a joke shop, and gave them some pointers on products that might do well, as well as a promise to fund their store, much to Molly's horror), breakfasted, and discussed what was going to happen. Harry met Bill and Charlie for the first time, as well as learning that the officious Percy had a job for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He was helping Madam Baum organise the Quidditch World Cup Finals, so he wasn't present.

Save for Bill and Charlie (Percy already being present at the grounds), the lot of them were going to take a Portkey, along with Amos Diggory, and his son, Cedric, whom Harry had faced at Quidditch. It was difficult, considering that several people were holding on to one Portkey. The journey itself wasn't pleasant. Percy, however, happened to be waiting for them, and helped them get to their assigned space. Unlike Arthur Weasley (who tried) or the other wizards checking off arrivals (who hadn't), Percy at least tried to look the part of a Muggle, albeit making him look like an officious bureaucrat. He helped them find their patch, and said he would come back later, once he got a report back to his boss.

The tent next to their own few tents looked unremarkable (unlike a few around nearby), but Harry knew who was in it. And not long after they set up their tent, a teenaged girl with silvery blonde hair, and deep blue eyes, and the very picture of beauty. Amongst all the eccentrically-dressed wizards, she seemed conspicuous by her relative normality: she was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with said T-shirt having the words 'Enfant Terrible' on it.

She smiled upon seeing Harry. "Bonjour, mon ami!" Fleur Delacour greeted Harry.

"Bonjour, Fleur," Harry said with a smile on his own face…

CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:

Well, here we are with the first chapter of In Spite of Appearances. Mostly scene-setting, though.

1. The French translated version of the very first Doctor Who story to ever be novelised (and the second TV story). Originally called Doctor Who in an Exciting Adventure with the Daleks, David Whitaker's novelisation of Terry Nation's landmark story is nowadays simply known as Doctor Who and the Daleks. The French translation was published in 1987, seven years before the events of this story.

2. I took something of a risk here, having Fleur wear a shirt like this. I originally went with a T-shirt with the painting L.H.O.O.Q on it, before deciding, upon finishing the chapter, that it was a step too far for Fleur. L.H.O.O.Q is a famous parody of the Mona Lisa with a moustache drawn over the face. The title of L.H.O.O.Q, if pronounced out loud, sounds similar to a French phrase that (roughly) translates to 'she's randy', as far as I understand it. I decided to have a less risqué shirt instead.

3. Given how Crouch died during the events of In Spite of Obstinate Men, I needed a replacement character quick-smart, one who would follow many of the roles Crouch plays in The Goblet of Fire, but who was distinct enough. Given Crouch is meant to be a diplomat of sorts, I derived Baum's first name from 'ambassador', and chose a name not far from it, 'Amber'. 'Baum' was chosen because it's not too divorced from the term 'balm', as all good diplomats have to be soothing when need be to keep things cordial. The Muggleborn thing was something made up, as there's a perception that there are very few of those in senior positions in the Ministry, and while that position is seen as a dead-end posting for many (Crouch got punted there from the DMLE, remember?), being the head of the department would be an achievement enough for Amber, who at least works hard to get what she needs done done. Percy's feelings on her will be elaborated later on, but while he won't be as effusive and sycophantic as he was towards Crouch in canon, he does respect her as a boss.