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Standard Disclaimer:

Emily snuck up behind Thorber, who was feverishly wrapping a gift basket. "Whatcha doin'?" she asked none-too-softly.

Thorber jumped and whipped around to glare at the redhead, then went back to his work. "Arnie1701 was the first review when the Prologue got posted the other day."

"Yup!" bubbled Emily. "Just a little while into the posting too! Pteaset and Spider of Dreams sent some nice reviews as well, so are you making gift baskets for them all?"

Without looking up, Thorber pointed with one hand to a table in the corner, where two more baskets lay, still unwrapped. Emily eyed them and with a flick of her wand, had them both gift-wrapped and flying out a window, on their way to the reviewers.

"You know what's funny?" said Emily, "We're sending fictional gift baskets to our reviewers, but we still have no idea how to export leaf plates to them.

"One thing at a time, Miss King," said Thorber as he put the finishing touches. "Now, do me a favour and give the line while I get an owl to carry this thing."

Hefting the basket with both arms, he staggered out the door. Emily stared at his retreating form and shook her head. "Why does he always choose to do things the hard way? It's like he forgets he's a wizard too."

She looked at the readers for a moment, then began waving her wand around like an orchestra conductor. After a while, energetic classical music began to play throughout the theatre, and a swarm of hamgons began to circle the stage, blasting gouts of flame into the air, over the heads of the readers, and directly into the face of Dolores Umbridge.

First year students from all four Hogwarts houses marched onto the stage, humming and vocalizing in harmony to the classical score, then they sang a rendition of Don't Stop Believing. After much applause, the First Year Choir announced, "Triage Inc. does not own Harry Potter, Warner Bros, or anything related to the Potterverse. Pity us!"

"Thank you, boys and girls, now, off you go to Argus Filch for your detention assignments in the dungeon torture chambers," said Emily.

Grimacing, all the students reluctantly left, while Thorber sauntered back in, dusting his hands off.

"All right, that's done," he said, "so what did I miss?"

"Nothing this time. But this chapter is going to be interesting. I wonder if the readers will notice what we're doing to them. Oh uh…enjoy the story folks!" Emily smiled sheepishly, realizing she'd been announcing plans to the masses.

Author's Notes: This rewrite received some massive inspiration a few days ago, and you can thank the contents in this chapter for making me get back onto this story. Fancasting: Eva Mikulski as Fleur, Alexandra Lenarchyk as Gabrielle. Enjoy the story. Do please read and review. The dialogues here are spoken in French. It's Beauxbatons...d'uh…

Special thanks to Zevoros for moral support, proof-reading, and beta works.

Fleur Delacour and the Secret of the Teardrop
By Triage
Chapter 1: The Deadly Tears

Beauxbatons was already enjoying the warm weathers of summer by late June, and the school grounds, while it exhibited a perpetual late spring/early summer feature of flowers and vibrant green grass thanks to magic, nonetheless had a certain feel to it depending on the actual season. As such, students could see warmer colours reflected in the magical hues surrounding the main courtyard leading up to the castle, which was built directly against a mountain, facing eastwards, that it might be greeted by the morning sun each day.

The castle itself was a sight taken seemingly straight out of a fairy tale; the walls were made from stone so finely carved, it almost looked seamless. The pastel cream white colour helped it stand out without being overbearing, and the pale faded blue roof tiles were shaped like long, sharp cones that stretched proudly off the tops of seven towers. Parapets and walled balconies lined the edges of each layer, with curved designs meant to evoke a sense of artistic flair rather than something aggressive or imposing. A moat shaped and designed more like a river glade surrounded the entire castle, with three curved bridges providing access from the east, north and south.

The Garden of St. Louis was what greeted students and guests alike past the gates to the castle. A wall of green hedges extended all around from the gates and around the castle, with two more gardens after the Garden of St. Louis at the front. The two smaller gardens also doubled as greenhouses and herbology classes for the students. One garden on the left and right of the castle provided more beauty and decorations, and two more gardens were located in the back. There were large and small fountains and statues of renowned wizards and witches all over. The back gardens also housed the giant skeleton of a legendary tarasque.

Beyond the castle, a peaceful forest surrounded it. A forest full of history and legend, for indeed, there were many tales told amongst magical and mundane folk alike, and every one of them were true. To the south, which was the left side of Beauxbatons, was a placid mountain lake with crystal clear blue waters. Many students enjoyed an afternoon dip, or took the boats to enjoy a picnic on one of the three small islands near the centre of the lake.

Jogging along the sandy shores of the lake, was a slender teenaged girl with long pale gold hair tied in a loose ponytail, which bounced left-and-right as she travelled at a steady pace. She wore a sleeveless blue top, matching blue shorts, and mundane running shoes in cream colour. Many people shied away from her as she approached, some even outright fled to be well out of her way. One boy cried out in alarm when she passed him, then he swore loudly, causing his friends to jeer him.

The girl didn't seem phased, but when she was past the shoreline and running along the stairs leading back to the castle grounds, she let her face fall. Panting slightly, she paused by a drinking fountain, enchanted to provide refreshing cold water in the summertime, and slaked her thirst. Her skin was moist with a fine sheen of sweat from her morning workout. Indeed, she kept herself in good shape. A necessity for her, because she was a most unusual Veela named Fleur Delacour.

Veela were subjected to many legends and stereotypes amongst magical folk. The most common one being deadly sirens who lured men to their doom. Creatures of lust, love and/or boundless passions. Assumptions on their nature were often unfairly heaped upon them. Most, if not all of these beliefs, were patently untrue. Though some facts remained fairly correct, in that they had an ability called the Allure, and they were entirely female only.

Whilst Veela came in all shapes, sizes and skin colours, the power of the Allure made them irresistible to virtually all folk, no matter their size, build, or looks. While the legend of their beauty could sometimes prove to be exaggerated, the Allure worked to hide or deny flaws, no matter what distance they were perceived. Indeed, the Allure was both a blessing and curse to virtually all Veela. But Fleur was the sole exception in this.

Though by any accounts considered most fetching and beautiful, with smooth fair skin, vibrant gold hair that was long and straight, and sapphire blue eyes, Fleur actually lacked the Allure. In fact, outside of her immediate family and other Veela, Fleur began to repulse anybody whom she came within six feet of. She was, for lack of a better term, a freak of nature. Outside the norm. The uniqueness did not end there, for when she first transformed into an avian form, it was not the atypical harpy-like shape of all Veela.

Instead, dull black down feathers would sprout along her arms and body, and her face morphed into a decidedly avian shape, but the difference went on. Veela were beings of fire, yet Fleur was not fond of heat or fire, and more, she took more to water, and ice formed around her hands at will. Then there was the matter of her tears. It seemed that Fleur's tears were the subject of great interest. Her tears of anger and hatred could concoct a venom equal to basilisk venom, whilst tears of joy were as potent as phoenix tears.

As it was, when word came out that the newborn Fleur had killed the attending Healer who helped deliver her with her tears, it took all of her father, Sebastien Delacour, and his influence to keep her from being snatched away and locked in some room, to be studied and dissected. Veela were regarded as lesser than wizards and witches. As far as the French Ministry were concerned, it wouldn't take much to regard Fleur as mere property of the state. She was already going to have a hard time in life, she would not need the added threat of the Ministry finding out about her tears and their properties.

That didn't stop word getting out, and select individuals came to know about the Veela Tears of Fleur.

It became a necessary evil that Sebastien had to tolerate and allow certain individuals into their household on occasion, to keep the larger majority of the powers that be from knowing and exploiting his daughter's ability, which Fleur perhaps rightly called a curse. The only upside was that once she turned six, her Repulsion made many unwilling to want to spend too long in her presence before they're practically chaffing to escape the Delacour Villa. Though it was very much the opposite of an Allure, the principle to controlling the power was fairly similar, and Veela were able to train her in how to utilise or dull the Repulsion to a negligible point.

However, here, in Beauxbatons, it was quite hard to maintain control of the Repulsion when so many students made her want to turn it all the way up. While nothing was confirmed, many knew it was to court danger by making Fleur cry. Between the rumours of her deadly tears, and her Repulsion, mixed by her natural beauty, she had not known friendship from the time she entered pre-school, and that situation never improved as she got older, but instead, deteriorated.

Which was what brought her out here today. Her Fifth Year exams had concluded, but there was an upcoming event next term, and apparently several students were being chosen as representatives of Beauxbatons. The cream of the crop, as it were. Naturally, the selection process was a cross between academics and spellcasting and even physical abilities and attributes. While she was not eager to go travelling to other countries, especially England, where the treatment of non-human magicals was quite possibly worse than in France, she was required to participate.

Privately, Fleur had in her a desire to prove herself, to impress...no matter how futile such an endeavour might be. So she began training in earnest. She raised her eyes blearily towards the castle. She had no mind for the beauty of the castle, the gardens, the lake, or the magical forest. This place never felt welcoming to her. It was not home.

Home.

The only place she ever belonged, was loved, and loved in return, was with her immediate family. Her father, Sebastien, her mother, Apolline, and her darling little sister, Gabrielle. She absolutely loved her baby sister, and there was almost nothing she wouldn't do for Gabrielle. When she was nine years old, she was quite possibly more worried than her own parents. Mainly, would Gabrielle suffer the same fate as Fleur herself? Would there be two ice Veela?

To her immense relief, Gabrielle's tears were found to have no magical potency. And when she was six, her Allure began to manifest.

Gabrielle was a normal Veela.

Then that brought to question why Fleur was such an anomaly. Why was she different? Having spoken to her grandmother recently, they found no history of a Veela that wielded ice and had an affinity with water. There were of course affiliated legends, such as the Sirens and the Rusalka, who were both very distant relations of the Veela who held affinity with water. But even so, the Delacours had no ancestry with Sirens or Rusalka. Thus, it baffled all Veela who had been consulted. Eventually, her parents had exhausted all possible avenues to help figure out Fleur's…issue. Mainly, they were concerned that there might be other possible side effects that had not yet manifested.

Fleur was sixteen now, and had a few more years by Veela standards before she reached her full maturity. What would happen when she did? Judging by her black downy feathers when she transformed, she was definitely taking on after some kind of bird, but what, she had no idea.

Setting aside these concerns, she began a slow trek back to the castle, both dreading and somewhat looking forward to the duelling matches that would be taking place over the next few days. She had trained well and hard, which was something of a necessity here, when virtually everyone shunned her, including the professors, and she was regularly pranked or attacked in the corridors, she had to learn self-defence early on. Her Protego Maxima took on a pale bluish-white hue that covered her completely in a bubble when cast. Fortunately, the only spells it couldn't protect her from were the Unforgivables, but no one was stupid enough to cast those.

That did not mean Fleur was unprepared for them.

"Delacour," said a female voice, causing Fleur to flinch violently before she turned to face a potential attacker.

"Oh." Fleur lowered her guard when she saw it was Océane Fournier. "Bonjour."

Océane nodded her head in greeting, lips pursed. Océane, like Fleur, was a Veela, thus she was completely unaffected by her Repulsion. She was also one of the few people in Beauxbatons who ever engaged in cordial conversation with Fleur. They were apart by a year, with Océane being the older, and they were by no means friends. At best, Océane tolerated Fleur, but as the latter was starved for friends, she treasured the other Veela as the closest thing she had, and placed a lot of emotional attachment on her.

"Your potential competitor is going to be Jean-Paul Cartier, Lumis, or Arriane," said Océane, "you will be certain after lunch time."

Fleur nodded her head. "Thank you, Océane. I appreciate being told."

"It's Fournier," Océane reminded offhandedly, as if it was a tired old habit, "I wish you luck."

With the message delivered, the other Veela took her leave, walking ahead of Fleur at a brisk pace. Although unaffected by the Repulsion, Océane was certainly not Fleur's fan, and didn't exchange more than a few words with her each time. For Fleur, this counted as a fairly lengthy conversation.

Sighing, she crossed the bridge into the main entrance and headed for her dorms to change.

~ O ~

When Fleur entered the school canteen, there were magical boards floating about showing various results prior to lunch. She had duelled with Rosanna Gomez the day before, a Spanish exchange student. She'd caught the slightly younger girl off guard with a conjured little owl that flew straight at her face, following up with a stunner that trailed in the owl's wake. Fleur doubted that trick would work again now.

A sudden hush in the din of conversations around her all but announced Fleur's presence. As usual, people nearest to her alternated between looks of disgust, fear, and revulsion. Some turned away and exchanged nervous glances with one another, whilst others fingered their wands and eyed her like she was a dangerous wild animal prowling in their midst. Fleur had every confidence that she had learnt to stamp down her Repulsion to the point of negligible effect, and these people were just reacting based on the stigma of her reputation.

Sighing, she looked around the tables until she found Océane sitting nearby, and the other Veela locked eyes with her. She looked mildly annoyed, but tilted her head at an angle, inviting Fleur to join her. Relieved, she moved over and daintily skipped over a foot that stretched out suddenly in her path. That was nothing new to her. For all the fear they seemed to have, the willingness to try hurting her was amazingly able to overpower any sense. She had learned from the time she was very small to not expect help from the adults or professors if anyone succeeded in pranking or harming her.

She was on her own.

When she settled down next to Océane, the older girl immediately leaned closer, a somewhat eager light in her eyes. "The results came back; you will be facing Jean-Paul after all."

After hearing this, Fleur dropped her head, almost losing all appetite. Jean-Paul Cartier was quite possibly one of the worst of her tormentors in Beauxbatons. Just a few tables over, she found him eyeing her with almost gleeful intent. From the time she'd started attending Beauxbatons in primary to her present, he was her foremost bully. He wasn't just arrogant and brutal, but he had the magical prowess and physical strength to back-up any fight he instigated. For some reason, his fear of her had turned into a burning hatred that he now cultivated into an art form. If anything, he had been waiting for this day or opportunity.

She wouldn't be surprised if it turned out he'd rigged the fights to ensure he faced her.

Though to be fair, he didn't need to rig anything. Very few could match his ability. Including Fleur. While she was almost a savant when it came to defence and blocking, she had not developed her offensive abilities as much. Unfortunately, she took to heart the lesson she learnt when she was seven. It's okay for others to hurt her, not okay for her to retaliate. When they'd seen her start to cry, she was quickly stunned and later woke up to the sight of her father heatedly arguing with seven aurors. The lead auror warned Sebastien to keep his beastly child muzzled.

Normally, most men would quail at speaking so to Sebastien Delacour, but her Repulsion had a strange effect of causing fearful people to sometimes lash out in strange ways.

"Best have a little to eat at least," said Océane, nudging a plate of food over to Fleur, "Jean-Paul will only go at you all the harder if you appear faint."

Fleur couldn't tell if the other Veela was trying to prime her up for a sound beating at Jean-Paul's hands, or if she was trying to give her a fighting chance. Either way, she could not fault Océane's logic. She was going to burn a lot of energy and power. Jean-Paul had every advantage in terms of size, strength and age. At least after next term, she would have a full term free of him and his friends. Maybe things would finally get better.

A small voice in her head said otherwise.

~ O ~

Lunchtime came to an end at too quick a pace, and the transparent glowing boards overhead moved to the sides of the canteen, as did the benches and tables. A few students hadn't bothered to vacate the benches and were smiling as they got moved along. Fleur had moved herself to stand near the centre of the canteen, and the ground rose smoothly beneath her feet. Across from her, just twenty metres away, stood Jean-Paul. Fleur figured using a conjured owl and a stunner behind the owl wouldn't work again here, but she had something else in mind.

The professors had positioned themselves all around the upraised dais, to empower a shield that kept the duelists within the constrained space and kept wild spells from striking the students. Madame Olympe Maxime towered over all the professors, and stood close to the middle of the dais, her lips were perpetually curled downwards. She nodded at Jean-Paul and eyed Fleur critically, but did not extend the same courtesy as she showed the boy.

From outside, the Transfiguration Professor, also a former duelling champion in the global circuit, instructed the two in the formal acts of duelling, such as saluting one another, and then counted down to the start of the match.

As soon as the professor reached "One." Fleur completely cut loose her control over the Repulsion. And everyone finally felt the full effects of her unusual power. The Headmistress' expression darkened almost immediately, whilst the other professors were a mix of trepidation, wariness, and revulsion. Most of all, Jean-Paul, who had no shielding whatsoever, and had thought all this time, that he had been building his resistance to her effect. He only had Océane to base his experience on, as did all other students. Fleur never showed how much control she exerted over herself to keep the Repulsion completely at bay. The truth was, none ever felt it, not even the professors. At least, not in her teenage years, when she'd achieved complete control over it.

Which also meant, the students' behaviour was entirely their own choice.

Her left arm took on a shiny white hue as a sheen of ice formed all along it, with snowflakes actually spilling out of her palm. Jean-Paul staggered back and let out an alarmed cry, as he momentarily felt panic and disgust. Fleur knew the symptoms and sensation they would have, so she took the opportunity to throw a few stunners and lobbed a snowball at the same time.

To Jean-Paul's credit, he managed to duck, deflect and shield against the stunners and he held the shield against the snowball as well, which splattered against the glowing magical barrier. As time went on, the Repulsion began to manifest the next stage in someone affected: Rage.

"YOU WILL PAY FOR THAT, BITCH!" cried Jean-Paul in unadulterated fury.

What followed next was a display of why Jean-Paul was elected as the top of the class for Battle Magic. Any advantage Fleur had garnered using her Repulsion was now lost, She could barely get any hex or jinx out before she was dancing around or deflecting her opponent's relentless onslaught. He was not holding back either. Most of the spells were borderline lethal. If Fleur got hit, she'd be spending the remainder of her term in the Hospital wing.

He hurled a low powered reductor curse first, which Fleur redirected upwards, and it exploded violently against the dome of the shield cast by the professors. This was Jean-Paul's tactic. He liked to start slow, before ramping up the speed of his spells. Fleur was never able to beat him even once. Her defences were impressive, but with no real strategic skill or offensive capabilities, even the best defence would be broken eventually. She seriously contemplated yielding the fight now instead of delaying her defeat. It wasn't like she really cared to go to England anyway. The weather was horrid, and the people were even worse.

He began to increase his tempo as predicted; a stunner, followed by another reductor, followed by a bolt of fire, his right hand swinging up and down, letting fly with the spells when the wand was level in her direction. Fleur shielded, swatted, and shielded again, but the speed was already too quick for her to find a moment to even retaliate. Soon, she would be forced to move swiftly. But she had learned and adapted. She wasn't just bound to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. And that, more than anything, was the only reason why she hadn't yet surrendered herself.

She kept his focus on her, and she twisted her body sideways, giving a narrower frame to hit, which also served to hide her left hand from his view. As he began to get even faster, she changed tactics from deflecting and shielding to reflecting. A lot of the repelled attacks went wild and splashed harmlessly against the professors' shields. All the while, her left hand was beginning to spread ice along the ground, and it was growing outwards toward Jean-Paul. So long as he didn't look down, he wouldn't notice until it was too late. Fleur just needed her luck to hold a little longer.

"Ignis Exardesco!" incanted Jean-Paul, and Fleur's eyes widened.

A massive gout of flame shot out from the boy's wand, and flew straight for her face. It was a supreme irony to meet a Veela that feared fire, but Fleur had been burned once by a hot kettle and she never ever wanted to be near fire or anything that hot ever again. Shrieking, Fleur forgot to continue her freezing efforts and instead threw both hands forwards, clumsily clutching her wand in her right hand and immediately raised a massive barrier of ice. Through the wall, she could see the bright orange flame licking and melting the ice at an alarming rate. Instinct also told her not to wait behind the wall, or expect it to slow down Jean-Paul for long.

She was right, and having stepped back, near to the edge of the dais, Fleur knelt, figuring she had one chance at this, when Jean-Paul sent an extremely powerful blasting hex at the wall, which, if it hadn't been there would have blown an unprotected body to smithereens. As soon as it came down, Fleur let fly with several shards of ice, she deliberately shaped them to be blunted. As she did so, she cast the Incarcerus spell, and lunged forward, only to slip on her own ice which she'd been building on the ground. Cursing her ill luck as she unceremoniously landed hard on her back, she finally figured this was as far as she'd go, and could only hope Jean-Paul would be in a good enough mood to just settle for gloating.

The sound of cursing made Fleur lift her head and look, to see that Jean-Paul was prone on the ground, actually bound by her conjured ropes. She was still in this fight! Scrambling to her feet, she whipped her wand forward, only to be struck by a disarming spell fired with enough force to send her sprawling near the edge of the dais. Jean-Paul dispelled the ropes and leapt to his feet, catching her wand in his offhand.

"The winner," said the observing professor, "Jean-Paul Cartier."

He was panting hard, and Fleur did not like the manic look on his face. Perhaps she shouldn't have gone on the offensive. It wasn't like she really had a chance, or that anyone even wanted her to win. Océane was only being polite when she wished Fleur luck. But now Jean-Paul was likely going to punish and humiliate her more. Various expressions warred on his face as he seemed to fight against the full blast of Fleur's Repulsion. Ultimately he settled on disgust and annoyance.

Face contorted into an ugly scowl, he stormed towards her, and she watched with horrified fascination as her Repulsion seemed to convert entirely into hatred for Jean-Paul instead of fear, as it normally did. She began to scramble clumsily backwards but she quickly ran out of ground as the dais gave way to steps down and the shield barrier was still up, though the duel was over once Fleur had been disarmed. She realised belatedly that it was probably due to her Repulsion still being in effect and the shield served to buffer the observing students.

Be it stubbornness or panic, Fleur didn't dampen her abilities as Jean-Paul reached her and tossing her wand aside, he grabbed a fistful of Fleur's uniform blouse and hauled her to her feet. She squeaked in protest and found herself nose-to-nose with the older student. Icy chills went down her spine, Jean-Paul's smile was not at all pleasant. A moist sensation began to form in her eyes. But she was too frightened to consider the ramifications of that. She just wanted to get away from Jean-Paul first.

"Animal," said Jean-Paul. "That is all you are. Beneath me."

Fleur made a soft whimper, but just allowed this to continue. Tears were forming in her eyes, but neither she nor Jean-Paul paid heed to the fact.

"You should have just given up the moment you walked up here," he continued, "but you were stupid enough to think you had a shot! What were you going to do if you won?" Jean-Paul laughed, "Perhaps you thought you'd move there? That it'll be better?"

Fleur's heart shattered right then. Because in a way, she had been thinking something like that, even when she knew that England had some notoriously poor policies regarding non-human sentients. And for better or worse, as a Veela, she was not considered human. Jean-Paul had a way of getting under her skin.

"There's no escape, Delacour." he taunted, "I will have you. You're mine."

She knew he had not meant that as a romantic overture, not even in some weird dominant fashion. No. She was just his favourite punching bag. To do with as he pleased.

"Monsieur Cartier," said the Headmistress.

"I'm sorry…" said Fleur weakly.

"You don't even know the meaning of that word!" said Jean-Paul tersely. "But you will, soon enough. You'll be sorry for daring to try retaliating. You'll be sorry you ever thought you had the slightest chance. You'll be sorry…!"

"Monsieur Cartier!" called the Duel Instructor warningly. The shields came down, and there was a collective release of noise as everyone felt the full effects of Fleur's Repulsion.

"...but most of all," Jean-Paul grinned at Fleur, "I'm going to make you watch as I put your precious Gabrielle through hell, and it's all your f-UMPH!"

Fleur's tears were flowing freely, but everyone saw the instant that Fleur went from submissive and fearful to absolute rage. A clawed hand gripped Jean-Paul's face and slammed him into the ground, while another grabbed his wand arm, already starting the process of ripping his arm from his body, and Fleur had just enough time to look up to see the red bolt of a stunner flying straight for her.

~ O ~

Fleur woke up to the sight and sound of her mother shrieking and shouting at a subdued Olympe Maxime. The Headmistress was eight feet and six inches tall; Apolline Delacour was five feet five, and somehow she managed to make Olympe look small as she tore into the woman with some colourful language that even Fleur wouldn't dare use.

"Fleur!" cried Gabrielle.

A tiny blonde girl lunged into Fleur's side just as Sebastien reached her other side, worriedly helping her off the cot and to her feet.

"Ma fifille," said Apolline kindly, "how bad is it? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Fleur took a moment to assess herself. She was sore and aching all over, but that could be attributed to her strenuous duel earlier. In the end, she shook her head, "I feel fine, maman, as fine as I can be."

"All right, come here, Gabrielle," said Apolline as she sat down and took her youngest daughter into her lap, wrapping her arms around the little girl possessively. "Please, then, explain what happened from your perspective. The Headmistress has given her account along with Monsieur Cartier's. In that you had been beaten…and proceeded to assault the boy in your true form, and shedding tears of rage with murderous intent."

Fleur hung her head in shame. "It...that is...quite true, maman."

Olympe looked mildly triumphant, and fixed Apolline with a firm look, but the latter was not satisfied.

"Please describe it, nonetheless, Fleur," ordered the elder Veela.

Obediently, Fleur recounted quite accurately, from her own perspective, the events that went down during the duel. How she fumbled her own strategy by slipping on the ice she'd created, to her ultimate defeat at Jean-Paul's hands, and though she'd already ceded the fight to him, he rudely held her by the collar of her uniform, and began to gloat, then threaten, but he also added Gabrielle into the threats, and that was when she lost her temper.

"The young lady exaggerates," protested the Headmistress, "it was not as bad as she claims. Monsieur Cartier is a well-mannered young man and he-"

Apolline cut Olympe off by violently slapping her palm on the desk, making Fleur and Gabrielle both jump in fright. "Headmistress, do you remember something important about all Veela?"

When the giantess looked confused, the adult Veela growled, "Veela cannot lie! We are literally incapable of it even if we tried. This means that Fleur speaks only truth. It is you who hides behind falsehoods and lies! Monsieur Cartier conducted himself dishonourably and threatened an eight year old girl! Fleur only responded as she did because she has been forced to fend for herself all these years, and she loves Gabrielle almost as much as I love my daughters. I am not blind to her plight, and were it not for circumstances or damnable wizarding laws, I would have them both removed and educated at home from now on. Is that the conduct of a gentleman? Is that who you want representing the pride and honour of Beauxbatons overseas?"

"Madame Maxime," said Sebastien, finally speaking up after letting his wife speak for the most part, "what have you got against my daughters? Hmm?"

For her part, Olympe had the grace perhaps, to not offer feeble excuses, and now that she'd been caught in one lie, made no further attempts at another.

"It is…difficult to fight the Repulsion...even when the young lady has fully controlled it. The feeling…lingers."

"Be that as it may," replied Sebastien, "you as the Headmistress would be setting an example, a precedent, no?"

Olympe hung her head, knowing where this was going, Fleur suspected.

"It ends here, now," said Apolline, "the condoning of bullying in the corridors, under the veneer of pranks, the harassment and professors turning a blind eye to it all. I'm not asking for special treatment for my daughters. Only fair treatment."

The Delacours stood up, with Apolline still carrying her youngest in her arms.

"I trust the matter regarding Monsieur Cartier's behaviour will be addressed?" said Sebastien, somehow making the question sound like an order.

"Yes, and...for what it is worth, I am sorry, Miss Delacour," said Olympe, looking directly at Fleur for what might well be the first time she ever did so.

"Th-thank you…" stammered Fleur.

"For conduct unbecoming of a gentleman," said Olympe, "for unnecessary force, and harassment and threats to his duelling opponent, as well as her sister, I hereby rescind the declared victory of Monsieur Jean-Paul Cartier in favour of Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour. Congratulations, young lady. You will be amongst the representatives of Beauxbatons in the following term overseas."

"W-wait…" said Fleur, looking slightly panicked. "...what if I do not wish to participate? Let Cartier go. He…he's still the better choice…in the end."

And much better liked, despite what he does…or perhaps it is because of what he does that he is liked, thought Fleur bitterly.

Olympe looked intrigued, but what Fleur noted was she was not opposed to this.

Apolline shared a look with her husband, and then turned to address Fleur, "Ma fifille, if you would do us the honour, please accept to travel overseas."

Fleur looked mutinous, but she lowered her head and acquiesced to her mother's wishes. "Pardon, Madame Maxime. I accept the invitation to travel with my peers. I look forward to joining them next term."

Olympe nodded her head politely, but said nothing more. At that moment, Fleur felt like something had finally changed between her and the Headmistress. She didn't know what it was, nor whether it was good or bad. But there was a change.

With nothing else to say, the Delacours left the room. Gabrielle was enjoying being carried by Apolline. Like Fleur, neither of them really grow less attached until they're fully adults. According to their mother, it's a Veela instinct, and she would never stop being their fiercest defender. Idly, Fleur realised Apolline was near to duelling the Headmistress personally. No wonder the giantess was somewhat intimidated.

The family traversed through the beautiful castle, with students looking torn between approaching, and staying well out of the way due to Fleur's Repulsion intermixed with her mother and sister's Allure. They were all distracted as the Headmistress' voice rang clear through the walls, announcing Fleur's vindication and Jean-Paul's win being rescinded in favour of Fleur. The student reaction was as Fleur expected, and her family was there to see it. The jeering, boos and vocal protestations. Nobody wanted her, except her own family. And why was there a law enforcing that Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour must attend Beauxbatons under close scrutiny? It felt like the whole world wanted Fleur to be everyone's punching bag.

The noises died down whenever Apolline or Sebastien fixed various individuals with a long hard stare. All things considered, Fleur was glad her father held a important position as the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Once they were at the Main Entrance that faced the east, Apolline put Gabrielle down and then looked at Gabrielle, saying, "Just a few more days, my dear, and we will all be together for the whole summer."

Gabrielle smiled and hugged her mother, before scampering away to join her friends. When she had both her parents' attention, Fleur lowered her head and said, "I'm sorry, maman."

"Whatever for, Ma fifille?" asked Apolline.

"I...I lost my temper, I wanted to tear Cartier's arm off, or kill...I've never lost my temper like that…"

Sebastien shook his head, smiling. "My dear, you have, actually."

Fleur looked up at that. "What? When?"

"You were eight years old. Gabrielle was just a few months old, and there was a street boy, twelve or thirteen, I believe." Sebastien stroked his dark goatee, "As I remember it, Apolline and her mother were purchasing the materials for your wand along with her mother's hair. He was throwing stones at you and you were just taking them, while you stood in front of Gabrielle's pram. But when he aimed for Gabrielle…"

Fleur suddenly had a vague recollection of that. It was the first time she created her ice spikes. Since she couldn't wield fire like a normal Veela, she learnt to use ice as a weapon. She'd impaled the boy's palm. Her heart began to accelerate. Maybe this was why she was mandated to attend Beauxbatons. Not so she can master her powers, but so the professors or students could put her down quickly if she became a greater threat.

"Fleur," said Apolline, "your father does not bring up the memory to make you feel bad. If anything, we are proud that you would so fiercely protect your sister. In this miserable world, where Veela do not quite accept us and humans fear or shun us, we must be vigilant. In the meantime, I wanted to tell you the reason we want you to accept joining the representatives of the school: You'll be going to England, where there will be a tournament, one that hasn't been held in centuries."

"Yes, yes!" said Sebastien eagerly. "And it will be held in Hogwarts! The school of Albus Dumbledore. Since the Veela Enclave refuses to disclose more information about Veela who have affinity with water and wield ice, and since we cannot find anything in Beauxbatons' libraries, nor reach Nicholas Flamel, he is our last hope. There is surely some information regarding your unique abilities."

So, that was it. The real reason. It wasn't entirely a Curse, but in many ways, her own parents had been treating it like such. Seeking answers, explanations, even a cure if one might be had, as to how unique a condition as Fleur had. But it also felt like her parents were burdened by this problem all her life. It made her almost regret being born. The only thing keeping her from contemplating darker thoughts regarding herself was Gabrielle. The one bright spark in the entire family.

"Okay, papa, maman," said Fleur, "but promise me one thing."

"What is it, my love?" asked Apolline.

"This is the last time."

Her parents exchanged looks again. "What do you mean, Fleur?" asked Sebastien gently.

"This is the last time you devote all your time and energy to find out about me. I've watched you sacrifice everything and even your lives just trying find answers. If Monsieur Dumbledore cannot help us, you will promise not to go searching any further. I will be seventeen and of age. I have good control of my powers, and I will live with it. It is not…it is not a curse."

She said it, but she did not believe it.

"All right, my dear, but we can only promise to try…" said Apolline, her face set in a stubborn line.

"That will do." Fleur accepted.

They hugged and exchanged goodbyes, then Fleur was trudging back into the castle corridors. Most of the students had dispersed now that the day's excitement had died down. The few that she passed still gave her dark looks or muttered whenever she got nearer to them. At least Fleur still had Océane.

"Fleur."

Speaking of which, there she was. Fleur's weary smile froze and then faded when she saw the exceptionally neutral expression on the other Veela's face. Océane's expressions for Fleur was usually one of tired friendliness or mild irritation on a particularly bad day for her. But right then, the expression Fleur was being graced with was one of utter dismissal, like she was not even worth considering under any circumstance. It made her heart constrict because she had a very bad feeling.

"Océ-I mean, Fournier?" said Fleur.

"Good, so you can remember." Océane's tone went several octaves cooler somehow, "Congratulations on winning against Jean-Paul, even if it was on a technicality, or misconduct on his part. I saw your transformation. It was…quite terrifying."

"I'm-" sorry, Fleur wanted to say, but the words died on her lips. Océane had never expressed fear to Fleur ever before.

"Jean-Paul is courting me, and I was nearly left with a cripple for a boyfriend because of you," she stated matter-of-factly, but now Fleur did not mistake the clear ripples of anger. "Given your ability, it is clear to me you no longer need anyone to protect you, and I can wash my hands off of you with a clear conscience. Do not speak to me again. Goodbye, Mademoiselle Delacour."

Fleur stared wide-eyed at Océane's back, and continued to stare blankly long after she was gone. Her first…and only…friend, outside of her family, and she'd just cut all semblance of friendship to her like that. She knew it was going to hurt, but she didn't expect it to devastate her as much as it just did. As long as the other Veela had been there, she never felt completely isolated and helpless.

She didn't want to come back to Beauxbatons next term.

~ O ~

Although she never spoke about it, or said anything regarding it. Throughout the summer, Fleur's melancholy was felt by one and all, especially by Gabrielle. The little girl never stopped trying to cheer her older sister up, however, and was a source of many wild antics, the amusement of all. Fleur tried her best to set aside her woes and anxieties for her family's sake, but it was far easier said than done.

She tried distracting herself by searching through books brought back to her by her parents, as they had until Dumbledore to keep searching for clues or answers about Fleur's unique abilities. The girl had begun to regret making them promise to stop if Dumbledore yielded no results, because now, her parents were more frantic than ever. The whole reason she wanted them to stop was so they would not keep putting their lives on hold for her sake. Now they were at full stop.

She would cry, but her tears would be so potent she'd probably destroy the ground her tears dropped on.

"Don't become a phlegm factory!" Gabrielle cried one day.

Fleur, who had been reading a book apparently recommended to her father by one Xenophilius Lovegood, was just studying the Putrid Digger Ooze and the uses of its splooge for medicine, looked up. She'd been sniffling, and now frowned at Gabrielle, wondering what her little sister was up to. "What?"

"All that festering mucus and seepage is gross!" added Gabrielle with a big smile.

"Okayyyyy…" And that was when Fleur decided Gabrielle was done reading a dictionary. Especially at lunch, when she'd ask if Fleur wanted to eat that pus curd (strawberries in cream), and make Fleur lose her appetite.

"More for me, then," said Gabrielle, helping herself to Fleur's share.

"You're evil, Gabby," said Fleur with mild annoyance.

"I'm protecting your girth," retorted Gabrielle, patting Fleur's tummy with her free hand.

"I am not fat!"

"Not now, you aren't, and you have me to thank." Gabrielle spooned up the cream and strawberries.

And that was how Fleur managed to get out of her funk, with her irrepressible sister egging her, or just sometimes showering her with love and affection out of nowhere. At times like that, both her parents would join them, and set aside their desperate quest, and for those days, they could just be a family and not worry, just as Fleur wanted. She only wished the summer could be like this and last longer.

~ O ~

The new term had begun, and Fleur had sought out Océane, in the vain hopes that the Veela would have found it in her to forgive Fleur, but at the icy cold gaze from across the hall, Fleur realised time had intensified the dislike Océane had for her.

True to her word, however, the Headmistress had spoken to the professors and even some students, and the pranking (or assaults as they are more aptly known) had ground to a halt, and some professors made an effort to engage her in the classrooms, though some visibly struggled to overcome the trace effects of the Repulsion, despite Fleur tamping it down almost completely. Still, the small Veela appreciated the effort. She kept her own word to her parents, and was conducting herself with the utmost professionalism, and when Olympe one day asked in passing if Fleur was going to submit her name as a potential champion, she'd said yes.

Olympe nodded, looked down at her feet, then at Fleur. "I think...I think, young lady, you are quite likely, the best of us all."

Fleur blinked at that, and looked up at the giantess. "H-how?"

She kept in mind that she'd lost soundly to Jean-Paul. She had no friends, had little to no social skills whatsoever, and she had trouble speaking to anyone aside from her family.

"Not because you are the best fighter, or smartest witch…" Olympe seemed to read Fleur's mind. "...but more because…despite everything, you are still here. And I do not believe for a moment the law is the only reason you come here. If your father truly wished it, he could have had you and your family moved to a place where you could learn magic on your own with your family. But, you all knew that sooner or later, you would face people, alone, and in a ways, Beauxbatons' students helped prepare you for how the world might treat you."

"Oh…" Fleur didn't know what else to say to that.

"I am truly sorry, however," said Olympe, resting a large hand on Fleur's slender shoulder, "for my part in making your life far more difficult than it should have been. From now on, I will do my best to protect you. Perhaps, one day, you will be able to forgive me."

Fleur stared up at the giantess in wonder. It was honestly more than she could hope for. And with that, she carried on through her Sixth Year, studying and learning, improving herself as much as humanly possible, practising with the school's duelling professor, to prepare herself for the tournament, which was finally revealed at the start of the term. The three participating schools were now in earnest preparation. There was going to be only one champion from each school, and based on the history of the tournament, the trials were nothing short of lethal.

Despite claims to a reduction of the threats, as well as greater scrutiny and security, nobody believed in anything magical being truly foolproof of mortal peril. She turned seventeen in October, and the enchanted carriage, pulled by the mighty Abraxan horses, was headed for Hogwarts just one day before the official choosing of the champions. Fleur and Gabrielle had a room to themselves, near the entrance to the carriage. The pair of them looked out their window as the scenery changed.

As it was October, the weather was getting cold. Gabrielle looked rather funny dressed in her thick coats, but she was a normal Veela, and felt the cold quite acutely. As opposed to Fleur who felt very at home in this weather. She only wore the standard uniform and outer robes. This once, her fellow students looked on her with envy, as she stepped out beside the Headmistress without any warming charms.

But Fleur only had a growing sense of apprehension for what would happen tomorrow. Though she partly wanted to become champion for the opportunity it would open up for her and her family to meet with Dumbledore, she wasn't sure she would even survive the trials to come, assuming she really was chosen. After all, Océane was here, and she was even more powerful and skilled as a witch than she ever showed in public, but Fleur knew she couldn't compare to her former friend. As they drew nearer to the awaiting representatives of Hogwarts, Fleur couldn't help but question the wisdom of this course of action.

AN: Thoughts, strawberries, hamsters, or reviews, please?