Chapter 1 - Kneel Before Me
Diagon Alley bustled with an air of festivity, vibrant banners and enchanted streamers weaving through the air as the crowd cheered for the re-election of the current Minister of Magic. Lucius Malfoy walked through the lively scene, his stern gaze sweeping over the familiar surroundings he never imagined he would miss so deeply. Suddenly, colorful confetti from the political commission fluttered down, landing on his perfectly groomed hair. Lucius's eyes narrowed in repugnance as he brushed the confetti away, stepping aside and seeking refuge in a nearby magical artifact shop, "Crystal Eye." As he entered, he used his wand to meticulously remove every last piece of confetti. The shop attendant, recognizing him immediately, stared in astonishment. "It's a great surprise to see you here, Mr. Malfoy. How may I serve you?"
Walking with unshakeable confidence, Lucius responded, "I'm looking for a new cane. No need to accompany me; I know exactly where to find it."
The environment exuded sophistication, with shelves laden with fine and exclusive items, appropriate for a man of his status. His sharp and calculating eyes scanned the shop with precision until they fixed on a collection of canes, each more exquisite than the last, true works of art.
Walking with an unshakeable air of superiority, his black cloak billowing behind him, Lucius stopped before an ebony cane with silver details. He held it, appreciating the perfect weight and smooth texture under his fingers. Although he did not need a cane, this accessory was essential to compose his imposing and aristocratic image. After the years in Azkaban, regaining his imposing appearance was a way to reaffirm his identity.
At the same moment, the shop door opened again, and a stunningly beautiful young woman entered. Fleur Delacour, with her blonde hair flowing like silk in the wind, seemed an enchanting vision. As she approached the counter where the shop attendant stood, his smile was completely captivated by such a graceful sight.
"Good afternoon, I am Fleur Delacour," she introduced herself, her voice soft and elegant like a well-rehearsed melody. "I would like my parents' names engraved on this silver tray. It is their wedding anniversary, and I would love to present them with this gift."
She held the piece delicately, her slender, graceful fingers contrasting with the polished shine of the metal. The shop attendant, a middle-aged man with a well-trimmed mustache, was immediately captivated by her presence.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Delacour," he said, his eyes shining with admiration. "You have a beautiful name, and this is a beautiful tray as well," he added, almost forgetting to glance at the tray as he spoke, more focused on her radiant presence.
Fleur smiled warmly. "Thank you very much. So, would it be possible for you to engrave it today? I need to return to France in a few hours."
The attendant looked at the clock on the wall and then back at Fleur's hopeful face. He sighed, regret evident in his expression. "Unfortunately, Miss Delacour, it won't be possible to do it today. My assistant is currently engraving brooches for the campaign of the candidate for Minister of Magic," he added quickly, not wanting to disappoint her, "I can work on it tonight and have it ready for you first thing in the morning."
Fleur leaned slightly forward, a magical gleam in her eyes. "Please," she murmured, and her voice became extraordinarily melodious, reverberating through the environment like an enchanting song. The sound seemed to envelop the space, transforming the shop's atmosphere into something more serene and magical.
As she spoke, her hair began to undulate on its own, moving in a hypnotic rhythm as if a soft, invisible breeze were caressing it. The daylight, filtered through the windows, seemed to intensify, reflecting on her golden locks and creating an almost supernatural effect. A soft light emanated from her skin, surrounding her in an aura that made it impossible for the shop attendant to look away.
The shop attendant felt his knees weaken and had to lean on the counter to avoid falling. Fleur's presence and the melody still echoing in his ears left him enchanted and breathless. He blinked, trying to resist, but the desire to please that angelic figure was irresistible.
"Well," he began, his voice a bit shaky, "I... believe I can rearrange some orders, I'll take care of that right now." He took the tray from her hands with renewed care, as if the piece were sacred. "Please write down your parents' names here," he said, offering her a piece of paper and a pen.
Fleur smiled, a smile that seemed to illuminate the shop even more. "Thank you very much," she said, her voice returning to its normal tone but still maintaining that innate elegance. She took the pen and wrote the names with graceful letters, handing the paper back to the shop attendant.
The shop attendant, under the spell of her presence, simply nodded, unable to find words to express the sense of wonder he felt. Holding the tray with reverence, he prepared to fulfill her request, not just out of courtesy but out of a deep, inexplicable need not to disappoint the ethereal creature who had so kindly asked for a favor.
Lucius, who had been observing the scene with a mix of curiosity and disdain, felt as if emerging from a trance. He blinked, dispelling the hypnotic sensation that hung in the air. His sharp mind quickly processed what had happened: Fleur's Veela powers had been used.
Fleur, noticing Lucius's attentive gaze, turned and smiled slightly, a touch of challenge in her eyes. Lucius inclined his head slightly in a gesture of recognition, admiring both the skill and audacity of the young woman.
"An impressive demonstration, Miss Delacour," commented Lucius, his voice resonating through the room with a mix of respect and condescension. He was in a section reserved for luxury canes that Fleur initially hadn't seen, his slender, imposing figure dressed in an impeccable black suit. "It is rare to see a Veela in full power."
Fleur maintained her smile, but her eyes, fixed on Lucius, held a fierce determination. "And it is rare to find someone who does not fall to their knees at the first sign of a Veela's enchantment, Mr. Malfoy."
Lucius took a step forward, approaching her. His gaze was fixed and intense, as if trying to uncover all the secrets hidden in Fleur's soul. "There are wizards and wizards, Miss Delacour. I am not a schoolboy or a shop attendant."
Fleur raised an eyebrow, a provocative smile emerging on her lips. "It has been a long time since I left school, Mr. Malfoy, and I was not at full power either."
The tension between them was palpable, like an electric current running through the air. He smirked. "So you believe you would see me fall to my knees in the middle of this shop."
She held his gaze and smiled with equal scorn. "And you think I wouldn't see?"
He laughed, a bit louder than he intended. "After what I've been through in recent years, I am certain that not even fairy glitter would make me falter. I believe you would just embarrass yourself, and I would not raise an eyebrow."
She took a step closer, smiling. "And I believe the same thing, you would just embarrass yourself."
Irritated by Fleur's insolence, he opened his arms slightly, his posture exuding confidence. "Very well, show me everything you've got."
She looked at the empty shop and then at him. "Right here?" she asked.
Lucius did not back down, maintaining a firm gaze. "Are you afraid of something?"
Fleur approached even closer, until she was a few inches away, her eyes fixed on his.
He began to notice the sounds around him diminishing, as if being muffled. The beats of his own heart started to resonate in his ears, each pulse sounding louder and clearer. Lucius noticed small silver lights dancing in Fleur's eyes, capturing him in a sensation of comfort and belonging. A warm light enveloped the two of them, creating a bubble of intimacy and magic. The tension in the air seemed to center on Fleur's lips, which moved slowly. At first, he didn't quite understand what she was saying, but soon the word "kneel" resonated in his ears like an enchanting whisper. Lucius closed his eyes tightly, inhaling deeply. He used every ounce of his willpower to resist the voice in his head that tried to force him to kneel. Trying to control his own breathing, he opened his eyes slightly, and saw Fleur's arrogant smile and knew he was about to give in.
Fleur smiled, victorious. "I believe it is evident that you moved much more than an eyebrow, Mr. Malfoy," she said, smiling suggestively. "But a promise is a promise, and now I want you to kneel for me." As she said this, her hair began to swirl violently, and a bright yellow and orange light started to emanate from her, creating a warm and electric atmosphere.
Lucius Malfoy, with eyes closed tightly, felt a cold sensation emanating from the black stone ring on his left hand. The jewel, an ancient relic, emitted a tremendous force, partially neutralizing Fleur's intoxicating magic and restoring a control that was nearly slipping from his grasp. His body trembled slightly as the energy coursed through him, but he soon steadied, hardening his expression with a sinister calm.
Fleur Delacour, noticing the sudden change in Lucius's posture, narrowed her eyes. She channeled more of her magic, directing an overwhelming wave of power at him. The air around them crackled with electricity, small sparks of magical energy dancing between them. Lucius's ring began to crack, fine lines spreading like spiderwebs across its surface. Each audible crack was a testament to the immense resistance being tested.
Summoning all his self-control, Lucius slowly brought his left hand to meet his right, both hands wrapped around his ring. His eyes snapped open, burning with pure defiance, locking onto Fleur with a challenge that dared her to continue.
The sound of fissures forming in the stone echoed through the room. Even so, he held Fleur's gaze, a silent battle fought only with their wills. A cold, calculated smile curved his lips, masking the internal turmoil. He knew he could resist long enough. Fleur's magic, though potent, would not last forever. The tension in the air was palpable, each second stretching like an eternity. Both knew that the first to yield would lose more than just the battle. Frustration began to twist Fleur's features, a flash of doubt crossing her eyes. Breaking the silence, she spoke, her voice laden with resentment.
"You cheated!" she said. Lucius smiled, a glint of triumph in his eyes. "I believe you are a sore loser" he said.
She then asked, intrigued, "What did you use?"
He shrugged, raising his hand to reveal the ring with a black stone in the middle. "This" he replied, his voice laden with satisfaction.
Fleur looked at the ring with interest. "Impressive," she murmured. "What does it do exactly?"
Lucius replied calmly, "It provides an extra measure of self-control. It is most useful for casting complex spells and for meditation."
To many, the sentence might seem like a simple description of a magical artifact, but for Lucius, these words carried profound weight, forged in the dark depths of Azkaban. The prison was not just a place of physical confinement, it was a place where mind and soul were tested to their extreme limits.
During his time in Azkaban, Lucius faced more human and cruel fears. The Dementors were no longer there, but their absence did not make life easier. On the contrary, the human guards were relentless in their hostility. Lucius was a constant target of humiliation: his hair, a symbol of his pride, was shaved weekly, he was deprived of baths and adequate meals, and, above all, he was relentlessly pursued by the Death Eaters he had betrayed to ensure the safety of his wife and son.
Each day, he faced a new form of torture. The guards' scorn, the disdain in their eyes, the venomous words of the Death Eaters – everything conspired to break his spirit. But Lucius knew he could not yield. Self-control became his only defense. Amid the filth and hunger, he learned to control his mind, to silence the screams of pain and despair that threatened to consume him.
Meditation became his salvation. In the silence of his cell, Lucius focused on his breathing, on each beat of his heart, using these practices to create a mental barrier against the cruelty around him. Each insult, each physical blow, was met with cold, calculated determination. He knew that any sign of weakness could be his downfall.
Today, as he left Azkaban, Lucius found a changed world, but he also realized that he himself had changed. The self-control, forged in adversity, had become his armor in the outside world. Every interaction, every decision, was measured and calculated, a demonstration that he still controlled his destiny.
The black stone ring he now possessed was more than a simple artifact, it was a symbol of his journey and his resilience. It not only provided the extra energy for complex spells but also reinforced the mental strength he had cultivated during years of deprivation. With it, Lucius could face any situation with the confidence that, no matter how difficult, he would not be overcome by his emotions or fear.
Fleur observed the ring with fascination. "These inscriptions are Veela, you know?"
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I thought they were merely designs. This ring belonged to my father."
Fleur, curious, asked, "Were you allowed to use things like this in…?" Her voice faltered, unable to pronounce the word.
Lucius maintained his lofty posture and, with unshakable firmness, responded, "Azkaban, Miss Delacour. After all I have been through, words do not affect me."
He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air before continuing, "No, this ring was kept in storage. It was only after training so much self-control on my own, in the most adverse conditions, that upon gaining my freedom, it was the first thing I thought to use."
He touched the ring with an almost reverent gesture. "This ring serves to reinforce the control I developed. It is a reminder that, despite all the deprivations, I managed to maintain my dignity and my mind intact. Now, it amplifies that ability, making me even more relentless and focused."
Fleur looked at Lucius with newfound admiration. "That is truly impressive, Mr. Malfoy."
Lucius inclined his head slightly, accepting the recognition. "Sometimes, Miss Delacour, the greatest strengths are forged in the most intense furnaces. Azkaban was my furnace, and this ring is proof that I survived the fire, stronger and more controlled than ever. That is why I accepted this foolish challenge. There is no way in the world you could break my self-control."
While holding Lucius's hand, Fleur traced Veela runes on his skin with her glowing fingertips. Feeling the electricity of the touch, Lucius looked at her seriously, realizing that he was once again under Fleur's control, this time unable to use the ring to free himself.
For many, Veela magic was seen as something superficial, a pretty and charming trick but essentially harmless. Fleur Delacour knew well what it was like to face scorn, the condescension of those who saw her heritage as a circus curiosity, something to entertain at parties and social events. From a young age, she had heard the whispers, felt the disdainful looks. To many wizards, Veela magic was not worthy of respect, a force to be underestimated.
However, Fleur was not just a pretty young woman with an exotic heritage. In recent years, she had trained intensively with her grandmother, a powerful and experienced Veela. She had seen firsthand what a true Veela master could do. Her grandmother, with a simple whisper, could put an entire village to sleep. She could lead people into dangerous situations, manipulating their minds in a way that was lethal and undetectable by the Ministry of Magic. Veela magic, in her hands, was a sharp, subtle and devastating weapon.
When Lucius expressed his condescension, finding it "cute" that she could influence a shopkeeper, something inside Fleur ignited. She wanted to prove she was much more than he could imagine. Her magic was not a parlor trick but a real, potent force, controlled with precision. With each touch of her fingers, she channeled years of training and discipline, showing the true extent of her powers.
As she held Lucius's ring in her hands, pretending to analyze it, Fleur made it impossible for him to use his other hand to intensify the magic of the stone. Lucius had underestimated his opponent, and now he was at her mercy. Holding his wrist firmly, Fleur whispered something unintelligible that sounded like a song, an ancient and powerful melody.
Lucius tried to resist, but felt compelled to close his eyes again. The sensation of Fleur's touch and the sound of her voice enveloped him completely. In that moment, she knew she had him under her control, and now she would bring him to his knees.
"Now see a Veela in full power," she said, using the words he had used to mock her magic. Fleur prepared herself, channeling all the millennial power, the heritage of her family. Her eyes glowed with determination and unwavering strength.
Lucius, though resistant, could not avoid the sensation of losing control. Fleur's touch was like an electric current, pulsing through him, undermining his willpower. He realized he had underestimated his opponent and was now at the mercy of a power he did not fully understand.
Fleur, seeing the struggle in Lucius's eyes, smiled. "You may have survived hell, Mr. Malfoy, but that does not mean others have not fought their own battles, and frankly, I am tired of being underestimated."
With that, Fleur intensified the glow in her fingers, making it clear that she was much more than a mere exotic beauty. She was a force to be respected, a true master of her own magic. And Lucius, for the first time, felt the true power of a Veela in action.
In the moment Fleur began to unleash her power, the environment around them started to change. The temperature in the room rose slightly, creating a sensation of comfortable warmth but with a palpable energy. Her hair, usually silky and flowing, began to move as if by an invisible breeze, each strand reflecting a soft light emanating from her skin.
The light around Fleur intensified, creating an aura that seemed to pulse with her heartbeat. The atmosphere around her became almost tangible, charged with a static electricity that made the hairs on the back of Lucius's neck stand up. The air became dense, vibrating with an energy that seemed to fill every corner of the shop.
Fleur's eyes, now glowing intensely, met Lucius's, and he felt an irresistible force in them. Her voice, when she began to whisper unintelligible words, seemed to resonate on multiple frequencies, creating a hypnotic and captivating sound. It was as if each note of her ancient melody touched directly at the soul, provoking a mixture of fascination and fear.
Lucius realized that Fleur's magic was not just visual or auditory, it was a physical presence. He could feel the pressure in his chest, a force pushing against him, demanding attention and respect. The ground beneath his feet seemed to vibrate slightly, as if responding to the energy emanated by Fleur. Every object in the shop, from the shelves to the smallest artifacts, seemed subtly inclined toward her, as if drawn by an invisible gravitational force.
The air around them was filled with a sweet and floral fragrance, a signature of Veela power. It was an intoxicating scent, creating an environment that was simultaneously comforting and overwhelming. Lucius felt his own heart quicken in response, his breathing becoming shallow as he struggled to maintain control.
Fleur's magic was overwhelming, enveloping, and impossible to ignore. She transformed the space around her, bending reality to her will. Lucius, despite his willpower and self-control, could feel the weight of this energy pressing against him, trying to dominate him.
"Kneel for me" Fleur repeated, her voice echoing with power. She was in absolute control, a living manifestation of the ancient and untamed power running through her veins.
Lucius felt the weight of Azkaban's horror etched into his soul. It was a burden he carried with a grim pride, a constant reminder of his strength and resilience. He would not yield to a young woman, no matter how powerful she was. In a burst of determination, he reached for his wand in his robes and placed it under Fleur's chin. His eyes, narrowed with intensity, revealed the seriousness of the moment.
"Stop!" he commanded, his voice laden with unshakable authority.
Fleur, surprised and admired at the same time, instantly ceased her magic. The light around her dimmed, and her hair, which moved as if it had a life of its own, stilled. She kept her hand steady, still holding Lucius's, and asked, with a voice that mixed incredulity and curiosity, "Would you really use your wand against me to avoid kneeling?"
Lucius looked at her firmly, his gaze as cold as ice. "I cannot afford to yield, Miss Delacour. After everything I have faced, I will not allow anyone to break me, anyone".
Fleur felt a wave of emotions upon hearing those words. She remembered all the times she had been underestimated, her Veela magic seen as nothing more than a cheap seduction trick, when in reality it was a manifestation of power, persuasion and control. Malfoy had provoked her, and she knew she couldn't yield. Ignoring the wand under her chin, Fleur decided to risk everything. She channeled absolutely all of her magic, not knowing what would happen next, determined not to lose. The light around her intensified, violently exploding with an almost blinding glow, while a stream of air charged with magical power blew in all directions.
She had never attempted something so risky before. When Fleur decided to exhaust all her magical energy, her eyes turned to a dancing shade of silver, and with a thunderous voice, she commanded, "Now, kneel before me!". Lucius, unable to resist the overwhelming power, fell to his knees. Moments later, he collapsed, unconscious.
The wave of energy advanced like a relentless tide, surrounded by a shimmering aura. The shop fronts trembled, posters and advertisements in the windows were ripped from their places, flying with the magical wind. The people in Diagon Alley, surprised by the force of the magic, felt themselves overcome by an inescapable sleepiness. Their legs gave way, their eyes slowly closed, and one by one, they fell to the ground, asleep where they stood. It was as if the air was impregnated with a hypnotic enchantment, making resistance impossible.
Fleur, panting, with her eyes still shining with fury and triumph, stood in the center of that magical storm. She was startled by the intensity of her power, looking at her hands still exhibiting a pulsating luminosity. She glanced at Lucius, unconscious on the ground. Exhausted, she opened the door to the shop's interior and found the employees asleep.
Staggering, she moved outside into Diagon Alley and saw the immensity of her power, her eyes widened in shock. Everyone in Diagon Alley was unconscious and she was the responsible.