Here's another chapter. Sorry that it's been a while, I've had writers block for this and my PJO fanfic for a good few weeks. Plus, it's just been a shitty month for me, but nothing worth complaining about.

I'd like to clarify here; if I ever abandon this, or any, story (and that's very unlikely), I'll make it clear that I have.

Hope you all enjoy the chapter.

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Harry was stood at the back of the crowd, doing his best to, despite his tall frame, hide from the blue-dressed teenagers and pre-teens that were pouring into the Entrance Hall; forgoing the formalities that the rest of their school had given on their arrival. Despite this, the large group was silent as they rushed to join up with the older Beauxbatons students. Many of the already present French students quickly crossed the distance left between them and their younger peers. Sisters, brothers and cousins hugged their family members tightly as they felt the relief just about anybody would. Sure, their Headmistress had assured them that nobody had died, but Harry assumed they had not really believed it until they saw the proof before their own two eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Dumbledore and Maxine watching the reunions with joy in their eyes, as Karkaroff looked on boredly. The teachers gathered around tended to have expressions similar to the former, while only Snape had one as inappropriate as the latter; in his ever-present sneer.

Next to the messy, black haired 6th year, Caroline, who was far more effectively hidden, was stubbornly rubbing her eyes; trying to avoid letting the tears fall. Whether those would be from empathy for the French Witches and Wizards plight, or jealousy at the ability to be reunited with those they were worried for, Harry couldn't say. And he had long since learned that it would be a bad idea to actually ask about such an uncomfortable topic, lest the short girl's tears increase even further.

Harry released a groan as the male population of Hogwarts' jaws collectively dropped, obviously caused by a new entrance; the new girl bore a, for lack of a better word, resemblance to the newly selected Beauxbatons champion.

'Another Veela then.' Harry commented to himself, before his eyebrows shot into his hairline. 'And a relative of Fleur, apparently.' The girl had run to, and been embraced by, the elder Delacour daughter, both babbling in French as they hugged.

Harry's eyebrows lowered, and sank into a frown as he scratched at his cheek. Was something wrong with the rune he had drawn there? It was supposed to let him know whenever somebody he had protected, and wished to continue protecting, was in danger, but he hadn't ever met that girl, nor any of the others. So... why did his magic let him know that Beauxbatons had been where he needed to be? And why had it told him the younger sister of Fleur was in danger? She wasn't here, after all. Just because she was a member of that family, there was no reason that he would be compelled to help this girl. Ah, well. Magic was far from understood. It may well be the case that this was just one of the many unexplained occurrences.

As Harry noted the, frankly pathetic, reactions of the males around him; some were openly drooling for Merlin's sake, a passage from his new favourite book came to him. One that had inspired a great deal of thought in the Wizard in regards to why he would be so different from his peers.

-()-()-

Humans, particularly those of the male gender and/or in the later stages of youth, are often ruled by their sexuality and it has, shown by the many instances in history in which sex has resulted in conflict and/or disagreements, the ability to make them act in ways that we Goblins would refer to as uninhibited and foolish. This can be shown by their reaction to many magical creatures of the humanoid stature, though fortunately not our species. The most prominent example is the reaction of males in the presence of Veela and Sirens. Even the most strong willed of (Heterosexual) men will feel the pull of their allure and those that are described as 'teenagers', or those later in life that possess lesser will, by their own species will stand little to no chance of resisting the temptation to act in a foolish manner. Humans can develop an 'immunity' of sorts to the allure if they are subjected frequently and so learn to ignore the temptation, and a very small percentage of those both inclined towards females are born without being able to feel the pull whatsoever...

-()-()-

But that didn't describe Harry. He felt the pull, admittedly vaguely, but even at the World Cup in the presence of a dozen or so full grown Veela he had no trouble resisting. So what on Earth was the reason? Was it justv an extension of his subconscious aversion to such strange emotions?

He was aware of the fact that his feelings, while becoming more like those of an ordinary human, were stunted in regards to romance and similar fields.

He was also aware of the fact that his... robotic, for lack of a better word, mindset towards the opposite sex was caused by the accidental hearing, while in his Dire-Wolf form, of a man talking to his child about their pet dog and Harry's, entirely rational, fear that followed that scene.

-()-()-

Harry was in the woods of Muggle Britain; a shadow that was waiting for the donut shop, a pleasure he had recently discovered and occasionally partook in, to open in the shopping centre across the main road between it and the trees he resided behind.

It was winter, and the child, only 9 years old, didn't want to wait, shivering, in his human form. Instead, he chose the thick winter coat of his Wolf to shield from the nip of cold air.

On this side of the road, other than the woods, there were half a dozen shops. A barbers was the furthest down the small cluster they formed from Harry, then a newsagents and a grocers side by side, followed by a DIY shop, a charity shop, and lastly a Vet. The Vet's customers, being nearest to the canine, were within Harry's earshot, and so he heard a conversation between father and son that would stick with him for the rest of his days.

"Daddy," The child began. "What's wrong with Rover?" Even as a wolf, and therefore with a slightly less human brain, Harry could hear the sadness in his voice. Sadness, that his pet, likely a dog, was sick and fear of what might happen to the animal.

"Rover's just having an operation, Kevin. It's nothing dangerous, but it will stop him from humping the furniture." The man grumbled something under his breath about his mother-in-law and her big mouth. Harry guessed that she had used that term 'humping', and the father was not happy about it.

"How will it stop the humping?" The child asked, wanting reassurance that his friend would not be harmed.

"Rover will just have a quick operation called 'neutering', Kevin. I promise that nothing bad will happen to him. Now, how about some ice-cream?"

"Yay! Ice-cream!"

-()-()-

Harry had, later on that day, looked up what that word meant. Needless to say, as one of his forms was similar to a dog, he had sworn that day that his testicles would never be subjected to such horror. And, short of hunting down every Vet in the world, the Animagus had not known just how to do that. He enjoyed his Canine form, and didn't want to forgo it in the future. Unconsciously his mind had decided that, since he was 9 and had zero thoughts regarding mating, it would be better to cordon that off. While he was aware of the fact that he was primarily human, why would he risk upsetting somebody with sexual actions if it could result in his losing his genitalia?

It was only now that he was coming to understand that, short of humping somebody's leg, in wolf form in particular, he wouldn't be subjected to a fixing. But the hesitance was definitely still there, and allowed him to maintain perfect control around the species that SharpTongue mentioned. Or at least, so far.

But back to the events unfolding around Harry.

He was growing more and more disgusted by the obvious lust on his classmates' faces. The girl was maybe 14, even if she looked older, after all, and 17 year olds were here drooling as they undressed her with their eyes. Just as a glazed-eyed red head, one guess which it was, opened his mouth to embarrass himself, the 'spell' was broken by a loud shriek coming from behind Harry,

"Vert! Vert, vert, vert!" As Harry turned to the source of the noise, he found a blue blur rocketing towards him. Not in his direction, no, at Harry. Normally, he'd have easily reacted, either sidestepping or drawing his wand to deal with a potential threat. But this was a tiny girl. No older than 11 and, even for that age, abnormally diminutive.

"Oof!" Harry grunted, as the girl flew at him and slammed into his chest in an impressive leap; still chanting 'green' in her native tongue as she wrapped him in a hug that, betraying a hidden strength, knocked all the remaining wind from the tall teen's lungs.

The girl babbled something in French, too fast for Harry to follow, as she dropped to the ground in front of the English Wizard. Harry took a gasping breath as he refilled his lungs and relieved the aching in his ribs from the little girl's hug.

"Um... Hello?" The black haired teen grinned at the girl, and focused on listening as the girl began her rapid-fire talking.

"Hello, Green Man! I didn't know you went to school here! I'm Michelle! I like you! You rescued us! Thank you for saving us, Green Man! You were a pretty cat, and I like your eyes! Emeralds are pretty, and so are your eyes! The mean men went away and haven't come back, but our school got blown up. But we're going to stay with you, so it's a happy ending!" Michelle gave a wide grin, and clambered onto Harry's back, scaling him like a cliff until she reached his neck, where she balanced and sat.

"Uh... right." That was a lot of information to get in a foreign tongue in no more than 20 seconds. "Is there anyone here from your family, Michelle?" He asked the girl sat on his neck, as he realised that the majority of the hall was now watching him and the girl currently attached to him.

"Nope!" She responded, chipper. "My Mom and Dad are still in France, but I get to visit them at the weekend. We're just here now because we need to learn our way around school. Oh! Can you give me a tour, Green Man?!" She asked, excited once again.

"I'd be happy to. And my name's Harry, Michelle. It's nice to meet you."

"You too! Do you know when we get to eat?" Her attention span proved not to be great, as the first year's stomach growled.

-()-()-()-()-

"I would like to say, on behalf of everybody in Hogwarts, that we are happy to welcome you to our castle. Of course, it is a shame that it is necessary and that the situation ended in such a way; one that showed that everybody involved in that horrific series of events was a victim." Dumbledore shook his head, sighing sadly at the thought of, what he perceived to be, the loss of so much redeemable life. Yet nobody was punished, since the French government deemed the vigilante who intervened commendable. Commendable, really. He killed and they believed that the elder Potter boy was worthy of forgiveness.

Of course, the aged Headmaster was unaware of the seething Headmistress sat to his left, or the disgusted French students shooting him glares. How dare he call the people who tried to rape and kill the Beauxbatons students victims? What was wrong with the man to think that way?

"But the way that we can pull through this," Again, his use of the term we aggravated several of the French students. "Is through support. This is the perfect way for us to fulfil the very aims of what we began this tournament trying to achieve; international cooperation and relationship building." The Old Man gave what he thought to be a humble smile to the, again from his distorted perspective, attentive audience.

Albus Dumbledore didn't receive the applause he expected at the end of his speech but, true to form, the Headmaster assumed that his words had touched those present so greatly that they had been rendered immobile and speechless. Because why else would they not be exclaiming their agreement?

Across the hall, Harry sat. To say he was out of his comfort zone would be an understatement for sure. Around the teen, dressed in black, green and silver for the welcome, three was a sea of blue. Apparently the younger Beauxbatons students didn't understand the policy of 'avoid the dangerous man'/ 'avoid the killer'. Instead, the charge lead by Michelle, they chose to show their gratitude to Harry by bombarding him with meaningless conversation. He was beginning to wonder how they could still be this immature. Was it some kind of shock? Was that the way that normal people dealt with trauma? To act completely illogically?

It sounded like a more feasible explanation than an entire school of kids being this immature. Even the older French students weren't avoiding him anywhere near as much as he had predicted. They seemed grateful which, Harry supposed, he could understand. He had saved their lives, after all. But you can be both grateful and afraid at the same time, and that would make a hell of a lot more sense to him than showing the beginnings of hero-worship for the guy that publically killed dozens of Dark Wizards without much difficulty whatsoever.

And by no difficulty Harry more meant that he had felt shockingly little afterwards. Not that surprising in his own mind, since it had been like putting down rabid dogs more than killing humans, but surely most people had more… morals? More mainstream morals? Base d on what the aged Headmaster thought on the subject, they would all be repulsed by him.

While this confusion was rather constant, the more pressing thought running through Harry's head was one of irritation. The kids sure could talk a lot. That was even more clear now that Dumbledore had finally shut up and they could stop whispering at him.

'How could people with such small lungs have so much volume?' Harry wondered, as Daphne caught his eyes.

Was she laughing at him?

Evil Bitch.

Okay, so maybe the sight was a little amusing; as evident by the fact that the others were trying, and failing spectacularly, to hold in their giggles at the sight of a scowling Harry Potter staring longingly at his food while the Beauxbatons girls on either side of him repeatedly tugged on his arms to try to pull his attention solely to them. But even so! They could have had a little empathy for his plight. Harry had to eat a lot. That was one of the few things his different instincts didn't clash on. He used a lot of energy, and would much rather be eating his fill right now than struggling to follow a conversation he had no interest in, that was also in a tongue not native to him.

The younger, and far more enthusiastic, students collectively froze, and their collective gaze focused on something behind Harry's head. He waited three beats, and found that they did not move back to him, so he turned to see what the fuss was about.

He supposed that she was intimidating to the small girls, but he really didn't see the need for the dislike that was present on their faces as they watched Fleur Delacour with apprehension. She'd come across as… nice, most of the time, to Harry. Granted, she was a little curt with the idiot boys that tried to 'court' her through public displays of stupidity, and was downright rude to Thomas, but Harry firmly believed that the morons deserved more than that for harassing the Veela at every turn.

"Hello, Fleur." He said to his fellow champion, as he smiled politely at her. Any sincerity was taken away by the confusion he felt at the Beauxbatons girls' reactions to the silver-blonde's presence.

''Ello 'Arry. Would it be okay for us to take a walk?" She sounded slightly nervous about taking a walk with the boy, but Harry put it down to the glares that were coming from the majority of her fellow Beauxbatons. He imagined that such… hate would be upsetting, explaining why she had been sat quite far down the table with the small group of girls that he constantly saw accompanying Fleur, with the addition of the new Veela; who drew even more attention to her and her friends.

"Sure." Harry saw no reason to refuse, and chances were that he wouldn't get any food even if he stayed, so he might as well go for the conversation that, presumably, would be more engaging than being chatted at by a bunch of first and second years. "Where did you want to walk?" He asked, as he rose from his seat, before being reminded that he was being held, rather firmly, by the nearest two girls, as they pulled him firmly back to the bench.

"Non! You won't... him!" Harry missed a word in that. One that he hadn't learned as of yet. The two girls, and their fellows, gave what would have been, on the faces of somebody more scary, intimidating glares to Fleur, but cowered slightly when the Beauty returned it tenfold.

"I was not going to bewitch 'im, Jessica." Fleur said to the one who spoke, with a dark glare. "'Arry?" She looked to him, wondering whether he was going to come with her as the girls let go of his arms, remembering the rumours of Fleur's avian form.

Harry, meanwhile, had taken the couple of seconds to check the expression of those further down their table. Those French teens did give a genuine feel of hostility in the glares that they directed at their Champion. Strange. He had seen her be a little racist to the English, with snide comments about the country itself, the food and the weather, but the two countries had a history of conflict, and some of the Hogwarts' students had said much worse about the French during their time here. Fleur had also been short with the male populations of Hogwarts and Durmstrang, but never had he seen her be anything but polite to her fellows.

He didn't know the eldest Delacour all that well, meaning that Harry was unaware that that was just an attempt at putting up a 'united front', as they had been instructed before attending the tournament. Very few of the people she had known through her time in Beauxbatons had been anything other than unpleasant or slobbering. The discrimination and racism against her kind, while less extreme than that of Britain, was still very much present in France: Men wanted her as little more than a trophy, to be mounted whenever they pleased, and women were jealous of her. A rational jealousy, since most of their partners would jump at the chance to nail a Veela, but harsh nonetheless, as Fleur had little to no control over the reactions of men to her unconscious allure.

"Uh, right." Harry pulled himself back to the present and stood, unrestricted this time as he followed the blonde out of the hall at a quick pace.

-()-()-()-()-

"So... what's up?" Harry asked the girl he was accompanying, as they walked through the castle's corridors, on the second floor.

"Up?" Fleur asked, not knowing what the native English speaker meant by the expression. Presumably he wasn't asking about the ceiling.

"Why'd you want to talk to me?" Harry corrected himself, and saw Fleur don a look of understanding briefly, before speaking once more.

"Oh, right." She cleared her throat a little, and Harry was confused to see an expression of nervousness. That suggested that this was an unpleasant topic, for the girl next to him at least. "It's about your... upcoming bank appointment."

"At Gringotts? What did you need to talk to me about that?" He had no idea what interest the Delacour daughter would have in his and his 'family's going to the wizarding bank.

"I... well, we need to tell you something."

"We?" That didn't sound good to Harry, especially since he couldn't see, hear or smell anybody else in the vicinity.

"Oui." She suddenly stopped, and turned to the door to her immediate right, raising her hand and giving four sharp raps on the wood.

"What are you..." The door opened and Harry trailed off. "Caroline?"

-()-()-()-

Harry was sat on a comfortable seat, across from Jasmine, Caroline and Fleur. His two friends were sat on a two-man sofa, while Fleur was on a chair similar to his own; a blue, comfortable armchair.

"Look, I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry." Harry said, nervously. The seriousness of the three boded... badly for the lone male in the room. Caroline gave a small smile to her male friend, and corrected his mistake.

"You don't need to apologise, Harry. This isn't about something you did."

"Okay... so who did something?"

"Harold Potter."

"Uh... you mean my Grandfather?" Harry asked, with a frown. His grandfather had been a good man. What could he have done wrong? The girls with him, or two of them anyway, knew that Harry viewed his grandparents with rose-tinted glasses. They would have to be careful with this.

"'E and my grandfazzer really." Fleur said, or maybe spat would be the better description. "Zey... ah, zey drew up a contract before my fazzer and ze current Lord Potter were born." Harry turned to face her with a raised eyebrow, not understanding why he was being told of a business arangement.

"So? I don't really care what the Potter businesses are doing." He commented. He was barely a member of that family any more, after all.

"Non. It wasn't zat kind of contract." Fleur said, worriedly. "Eet was a... a..."

"Marriage contract." Jasmine decided to put the girl out of her misery. It wasn't fair to make Fleur tell Harry; she was just as trapped as Harry. If anything, she may have been even more so. Harry could let his brother fulfil the contract easily. Thomas wanted to, after all. Fleur, on the other hand, would have to let her kid-sister take the burden and, over the past few days, it had been made clear that Fleur cared for Gabrielle more than life itself.

"M-Marriage..." Harry repeated, his eyes widening. "You mean..." He gesture half heartedly to Fleur and back to himself.

"Not exactly..." Caroline answered, a frown on her face as the redhead debated what she was was hoping for. She certainly didn't want Harry to marry, but Fleur was one of her best friends... and she would say that the blonde was her oldest friend. At Harry's confused expression, Caroline continued. "You can get out of the contract easily." She said, with a neutral mask donned. "But..."

"That'd mean giving it to the Little Shit." Harry inferred. "And you would have to marry 'the-boy-who-lived'." He addressed Fleur, who nodded.

"Oui." She sighed resignedly. Obviously that wasn't something she wanted. Who would?

"And what? Are there no clauses to get out of it?" Harry was under the impression that there were always clauses built in in order to break the marriage if the original intent fell through. "Surely they meant for it to be in your father's generation." The 6th year pointed out.

"There are," Jasmine replied. "But they require the agreement of both heads of house, for some reason." She tucked a strand of pink hair behind her ear, and continued with a scowl. "Your 'father' refuses to agree, since Thomas 'wants a Veela', and we all know how the boy-who-lived gets everything he could want."

"Shit." Harry groaned. "Wait a minute." He continued, with a confused frown. "How long have you known about this? If you've had time to find all that out..."

"How long have we known?" Jasmine squeaked, turning to Caroline, who stayed ever so lightly more composed, with a panicked expression. The red-haired girl, ignoring her rainbow-haired friend, replied, speaking slowly.

"Since the World Cup..." Harry's eyes flashed with annoyance, and he quickly stood.

"What?! And you didn't think to tell me?!" He exclaimed, as the chair he had been sat on was thrown back. Fleur, and seemingly only her, was more than a little unnerved by the anger he was showing, and then was very surprised by Jasmine's response, despite the Ravenclaw girl being worried about his reaction seconds before.

"Harry! Sit!" She ordered, as though the boy was a misbehaving puppy.

Harry sat.

Then, he realised what he had done and stood again, thoroughly distracted.

"Hey! You promised you'd stop doing that!" He complained, irritated. "I'm not a bloody dog!"

"You're right, Harry. We're sorry." Caroline said, with genuine sorrow. Though Harry would realise later that this may have been aimed at the previous argument.

With a grunt, Harry left in a huff, exiting the room and getting half way down the hall before something far more important occurred to him.

"Wait a minute! You've known about this for months?!"

See you all next time.

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Oh, and there'll be a bit of a time skip, though only to the Gringotts meeting, for the next chapter, in case anyone wanted to know.