CHAPTER 7 – TAKING THE FIRST STEPS

The initial days following Harry's arrival were a whirlwind of activity as the Delacour family made the most of their limited two-day stay in France. Throughout, Harry displayed politeness and a cheerful demeanor, despite feeling a bit overwhelmed. His approach to embracing this new life was marked by childlike joy and wonder, indicating that many of the activities were novel to him due to his sheltered upbringing. This revelation stirred silent disgust within his new family, who harbored deep resentment toward his former Muggle caretakers.

To alleviate Harry's hesitance, the Delacours endeavored to be open and welcoming, conveying genuine concern for his well-being. The elder Delacours respected Harry's opinions and patiently explained unfamiliar things. The younger family members contributed in their own unique ways—Gabrielle became his constant companion, while Fleur remained courteous and friendly.

The day after Harry's arrival brought an entirely new experience—introducing Harry to the world of women and shopping. The Delacours used a Portkey to transport themselves to the French magical district, similar to Diagon Alley. The shopping marathon left Harry feeling as though he had tried on every conceivable piece of clothing in the Muggle world. The ladies displayed boundless energy and seemed tireless. Apolline couldn't help but find his newfound stubbornness amusing, and from that point forward, the process became much smoother.

The newfound consensus did little to reduce the number of different outfits Harry had to try on. They devoted the entire afternoon to the endeavor, leaving everyone thoroughly exhausted. His new family encouraged him to wear some of his new clothing, and a discreet use of the Incendio spell disposed of the old, baggy clothes.

Observing the substantial amount of items they had purchased, Harry insisted on paying for his own acquisitions, but Apolline was resolute. Harry was now considered a cherished part of their family, and as such, the Delacours would provide him with the essential necessities.

That evening, they dined at an upscale restaurant in Paris. Harry was astounded by the exceptional cuisine while simultaneously worrying about making a significant blunder. His new family swiftly quelled his fears, and soon he was laughing along with the family, thoroughly enjoying himself.

The day spent exploring iconic French landmarks was a whirlwind of excitement for Harry. As he ascended the Eiffel Tower and marveled at the breathtaking views of Paris below, he couldn't help but be filled with awe. It was an opportunity for Harry to not only experience the beauty and history of France but also to bond with his new family.

For Harry and Fleur, these days provided a chance to delve deeper into each other's worlds. Fleur was genuinely curious about Harry beyond the tales of his adventures. She wanted to understand the person behind the legend. Harry, too, wanted to know her hopes, dreams, and what made her the person she was. These days together were not just about preparing for their future as a married couple but about discovering the depths of their connection.

To nurture their burgeoning connection, Harry and Fleur dedicated a substantial portion of their evening to spend time together. Gabrielle, initially expressing possessiveness toward Harry, had to be gently redirected by her mother. Their conversations primarily centered on Harry's emotional experiences during the various extraordinary situations he had faced.

Two particular events illuminated Fleur's character to Harry, fostering within him a deep respect for his newly betrothed. The morning following Harry's arrival, he had knocked on Fleur's bedroom door, his intention being to escort her downstairs for breakfast. They conversed amicably as they descended the staircase, entering the dining room only to discover that they were the last to arrive.

Observing Sirius' lack of response, Fleur pressed on, her frustration evident. "Furthermore, I understand the reverence you British hold for the Headmaster, but truthfully, I'm not entirely convinced he has Harry's best interests at heart."

This incident served as a reminder that Fleur was far from a pushover, and Harry made a mental note of her assertiveness. The prospect of being informed about important matters in advance, something Dumbledore had seldom done despite his many commendable actions, was a refreshing change.

Late in the evening following the shopping excursion, Harry engaged in another conversation with Fleur, during which he delved deeper into the realm of Veela and, perhaps unintentionally, discovered some of the topics that could trigger his betrothed.

The clock had struck late, and their discussion had extended for hours. Secluded within Fleur's bedroom, they had retired there upon their return from the shopping trip, and the two of them delved into various subjects. Harry was gradually feeling as though he was truly getting to know her. The conversation had taken on a relaxed tone, with both of them sprawled across her bed, discussing a wide range of topics.

Their discussion had circled back to Veela, specifically the allure, and Harry, driven by curiosity, inquired about how it worked and how it could be resisted.

"It's challenging to put into words, Harry," Fleur replied after a moment of contemplation. "I simply... emanate, although that's not quite the right word. It's more like projecting an aura."

Harry pondered her explanation. "So, it's like you extend your presence or something?"

Fleur considered the analogy for a moment before elaborating, "Not quite. Think of it this way: it's similar to what happens when someone wears too much perfume—you can smell the perfume from a few meters around that person."

Harry grimaced, recalling such experiences. "Yeah, but it depends on how much they use. I swear, there's a girl in my year who douses herself in it—you can smell her from a mile away, even farther if the wind is blowing in the right direction."

Fleur responded with a delighted laugh. "I'll certainly need to steer clear of her—I'm not a fan of heavy perfume. The underlying principle is the same, Harry. With the allure, I create an aura that's somewhat akin to the scent of perfume. However, there are distinctions—what I generate isn't exactly a smell but more of a magical field intertwined with pheromones, which affects men to varying degrees. I can also direct it, to some extent. For instance, I could focus it on a specific person in a room full of people. The other men in the room wouldn't be entirely unaffected, but they wouldn't experience the full intensity directed at the chosen one."

"Does the allure affect women as well?"

"No, Harry, women are immune to its effects."

"And are there any defenses against it?"

"Some, like the natural defenses you possess, and those who are skilled in a form of mind magic called Occlumency have a certain level of protection. But the most effective defense is love, Harry."

Her gaze grew intense, as if she were scrutinizing him closely.

"If a man is in love with a woman, his feelings for her reduce the impact of the allure. Most Veela magic is rooted in love, Harry, even though the allure is admittedly more tied to lust than love. Lust is, after all, a distant branch of the emotion of love. True affection for another person can overpower the allure, making it much easier for a man to resist."

Harry absorbed her explanation, his curiosity piqued. "And what else can your magic do, if it's based on love?"

Fleur, although somewhat uncomfortable with the topic, met Harry's gaze and continued. "Well, Harry, Veela unions are known for their exceptional strength and intimacy. If, by some good fortune, you and I ever form a loving bond, we will become closer than most ordinary couples could ever imagine. In the event of a true love bond, I will have absolute certainty of your love for me—it's an inherent part of my abilities. I can also sense when others share that emotion. Moreover, once we're married and engage in... intimate activities, I will instinctively know how to fulfill your desires—it's ingrained in me to comprehend the needs of my mate. This is why Veela have historically been coveted as concubines—what man wouldn't desire a woman who effortlessly becomes precisely what he desires and requires?"

Harry, no stranger to some aspects of human intimacy, understood the implications of her words. The conversation was slightly awkward, but it deepened Harry's respect for Fleur. She wasn't just a sex object; she was poised, confident, and modest, not flaunting her ability to captivate anyone she wished. Her self-effacing manner added to his growing appreciation of her.

"I can see how that might be a problem."

Fleur responded with a sigh of frustration. "Yes, it is a problem. I've been propositioned regularly since I was twelve."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Twelve?"

She nodded in confirmation. "Veela go through puberty at about the same age as human girls, but until we gain better control, there's some... leakage, for lack of a better word. Boys my age at Beauxbatons had no defenses against it. As I grew older and learned to manage it, the situation improved, but the damage had already been done. To most of them, I was merely a plaything. They would make advances, trying to appear masculine and suave in front of their friends. Many times, boys tried to corner me in broom closets, and they generally made my life miserable. Since I can sense genuine emotions to a certain extent, I knew none of them were truly interested in me; they just wanted to use me."

A thunderous frown marred Harry's face as he considered what his betrothed had endured even at Beauxbatons.

"There will be none of that at Hogwarts," he declared sternly. "I'll hex anyone who dares to try anything!"

Fleur reached across and gave him a warm smile as she grasped his hand, offering gratitude. "Thank you, Harry. It's very sweet of you to want to protect me."

Harry, still quite serious, insisted, "I want you to let me know if anyone ever tries anything, Fleur. I know we're still working through this, but no one will be allowed to take liberties with you."

Fleur nodded and lay back down, resting her head in the palm of her hand. "Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

Harry proceeded cautiously with his next question, sensing it might upset her. "Well, there's one more thing... I understand that some people consider Veela to be non-human..."

He was correct in his assessment; her expression quickly turned cold, and when she spoke, her voice carried an icy edge. "I am every bit as human as you or anyone else, Harry—don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I never doubted that, Fleur," Harry responded in a calm and composed tone. "I was merely curious about your thoughts on the matter. I want to be prepared because I have a feeling we'll encounter such views at Hogwarts, particularly among the Purebloods in Slytherin, if not elsewhere."

Fleur's expression quickly shifted to one of regret, and she apologized for her earlier outburst. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have reacted so strongly."

"It's understandable," Harry assured her, squeezing her hand in a comforting manner, mirroring her earlier gesture. "If you'd rather not discuss it, that's perfectly fine."

"No, Harry, you'll face some of that prejudice just by being betrothed to me, so you should understand the implications."

She fell silent, considering her words, evidently attempting to strike the right balance between conveying the gravity of the situation without giving in to anger. Harry remained quiet, allowing her the time to gather her thoughts and somewhat wishing he hadn't brought up the topic at all.

"I'm sorry once more for my reactions, Harry," she eventually said. "It was a reflex response to the bigotry I've had to endure my entire life, though I suspect it's not as pervasive here as it is in your society."

Harry nodded, and she continued. "Bigots prefer to label Veela as non-human, but the fact remains that we are just as human as those who promote their hateful agenda. Veela lineage can be traced back to the sirens of Greek mythology, although our origins prior to that are much more obscure—The Odyssey marks the earliest mention of the race that would eventually become known as Veela."

"Are there any earlier records?" Harry inquired.

Fleur shook her head. "No, but there are certainly legends. The truth is impossible to discern. Some believe the first Veela were the result of some long-forgotten spell that has been lost to time. Others contend that our existence predates the recognition of magic as a talent, going back to a time before any form of training or even oral traditions were established. It's thought that in the distant past, the world was imbued with wild magic, and all magical creatures came into being during that time. Living creatures were influenced by the forces of wild magic and adapted for survival. In any case, physiologically, I'm identical to any other woman—regardless of the veracity of the Veela's origins, the first of us was a human woman who was transformed in some way by magic. Everything else has been passed down from that point."

Harry continued with his questions. "What do you believe about the origins of Veela?"

A smile played on Fleur's lips. "What I believe doesn't really matter. I am human, just like any other woman. I happen to possess a few additional abilities and a significantly higher likelihood of giving birth to girls rather than boys. I think it's a natural mechanism to maintain the Veela race—since there are no male Veela, our magic compels us to have girls, ensuring the continuation of our race and abilities. The overall Veela population remains relatively stable or grows only slightly. It's also a measure to preserve the human race—imagine the consequences if Veela could have numerous children?"

Harry contemplated the scenario for a moment, and the implications became apparent. "If Veela only give birth to Veela girls, there would eventually be a substantial increase in their numbers."

"Exactly. For every boy born to a Veela, approximately nine girls are born. This would create a significant gender disparity in the world. Can you imagine the ramifications of having so many Veela?"

The implications were clear to Harry. "Veela, with their abilities, would generally have an advantage in attracting a mate."

"Exactly. It might take many generations, but ultimately, I believe that only women would remain, and they would all be Veela. So, I believe that the way Veela reproduce serves to protect both the Veela population and the world's population as a whole."

"And this leads to another point, Harry," she continued. "The fact that we can only have daughters poses a problem for the continuation of your family's name."

Harry was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Fleur sighed in exasperation. "I keep forgetting that you weren't raised in the magical world. The Potters have a lineage that stretches back centuries, Harry, all the way to the time of your founders. If we can only have girls, you won't have a son to carry on your family name, which is very significant, especially to old Pureblood families."

She was right—Harry had never considered this aspect before. "But can't a daughter inherit?"

"Yes, she can, but the Potter family name wouldn't continue, which is a big concern for certain families, particularly the old Pureblood ones. For instance, take the Blacks. If Sirius doesn't marry and have a son, his family name would die out, and it's just as ancient as yours."

"But don't families eventually die out anyway?" Harry questioned. "And some of the girls at Hogwarts don't have any brothers—what do they do?"

Fleur nodded in agreement. "Yes, family names do become extinct over time. In the past, it might have been due to various factors such as disease and war rather than solely having only female children. Plus, it's not equally important to everyone. However, in the upper echelons of Pureblood society, it holds significant weight. Your lineage is of Pureblood heritage, and most individuals in your social circle would naturally prefer a son to continue the family line."

Harry wondered, "So, what can we do about it?"

Fleur seemed to be probing him for some undisclosed reason, but she chose not to elaborate further on her statements. "There are other ways to ensure the continuity of your name, Harry, but I'd like to postpone discussing them for now. I'd rather focus on getting to know each other better before delving into such serious matters."

Harry agreed with her and, despite his curiosity regarding her cryptic statements, allowed the conversation to shift to lighter topics. It was very late when he finally retired to his own room, content that he and Fleur had made significant progress.

For Apolline Delacour, the two days spent with her future son-in-law were both enjoyable and revealing. Harry appeared reserved and quiet, typically offering his opinion in a thoughtful yet modest manner, especially when the topic was something about which he lacked strong feelings or specific knowledge. However, when he discussed subjects with which he was experienced, his confidence shone through, revealing a different side of him that held great promise. For example, when discussing Quidditch, he shared several stories from his time playing the game and the experiences he had encountered. Beneath his talk of the sport, it was clear that his true passion lay in flying. While he enjoyed the game, it primarily served as an avenue for him to indulge in his love of flying on a broom.

Harry's demeanor left a deep impression on those around him. He exhibited politeness and kindness, treating everyone with deference and respect, which puzzled Apolline considering his upbringing with the Dursleys. Given what she had heard about the confrontation with his neglectful relatives, she might have expected him to grow up with bitterness and a desire for vengeance, eager to prove himself. It was still early in their relationship, but despite some hints of those qualities in his character, the true bitterness appeared absent. He seemed to accept the first fifteen years of his life and his time with the Dursleys with a certain fatalistic resignation, even as he grappled with integrating into Apolline's family.

Harry was going through a period of adjustment, and Apolline could clearly see the challenges he faced, particularly when he received praise or felt overwhelmed by the warmth of the family. She suspected that he was eager to fit in with this family, not just because he would one day marry into it, but also because he recognized the substantial risk they had taken in supporting him.

This was not a concern for Apolline; in fact, she and her family were impressed by his character and manner. Initially, she had reservations about the marriage contract, given his status as a famous wizard and the target of one of the most formidable dark wizards in recent history. However, as she got to know him and learned about his past and glimpsed his future, she had no doubts about how Harry would treat Fleur. She was beginning to see their alliance as a very fortunate one.

Apolline, unable to resist the allure of her husband's smile despite her irritation, chuckled lightly and said, "You are incorrigible, Jean-Sebastian. I will not change my mind. We must all go together to support Harry and our beloved Fleur. This is a family matter, and we need to show our unity."

Jean-Sebastian looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "I do understand your reasons, my love. It's just that I worry about both of you."

"Harry is a strong and capable young man," Apolline reassured him, "and Fleur is more than capable of handling herself. We've raised her well."

Her husband nodded in agreement. "You are right, Apolline, as always. I just can't help but worry as a father."

With a tender smile, Apolline leaned over and kissed him. "I love you for your worry, my dear. It's what makes you such a wonderful husband and father. But we'll all be fine, together."

Jean-Sebastian returned her affection with a kiss of his own. "You're absolutely right, my love."

With their understanding reaffirmed, the Delacour family was ready to embark on this new chapter of their lives together, united in their support for Harry and their commitment to each other.

"Jean-Sebastian," she continued, her tone gentle but firm, "I understand your concerns, and I appreciate your love and protectiveness. But we've been through challenges before, and we've always come through together. This will be no different. We are a family, and we must face this together, as a united front."

He looked at her, his expression a mixture of love, admiration, and resignation. Apolline had always had a way of getting her point across, and he knew that her determination was unyielding.

With a sigh, he finally relented. "You are right, as always, my dear. We will face this together, as a family."

Apolline smiled and leaned in to kiss him, her love for him evident in her eyes. "That's why I married you, my love. We are stronger together, and we will support Harry and Fleur through whatever challenges lie ahead."

Together, they knew that they would face the future as a united family, ready to overcome any obstacles that came their way. And so, the Delacour family prepared for their journey to England, determined to stand by Harry and Fleur as they embarked on this new chapter of their lives.

"Jean-Sebastian, I'm not going to stay behind, so there's no need to hold back your words. If things get too challenging, we can send Gabrielle to live with her grandmother, but I won't leave your side. No need to treat me delicately—I'll be just fine."

Though his gaze remained stoic, the inner turmoil he grappled with was unmistakable to those who truly knew him.

"You won't budge on this, will you?" he asked.

"No," she replied with unwavering determination.

He looked down, heaved a sigh, then met her gaze again, a lopsided grin softening his features.

"I had a feeling as much. What possessed me to marry such a strong-willed woman?"

She chuckled in response, her tone light. "Oh, come now, Jean-Sebastian. You like me just the way I am—admit it."

"I do," he admitted, a hint of longing in his eyes. "I just wish I could keep you out of harm's way."

"That's something you can't control. Consider this: if this Voldemort gains control of England, where do you think he'll strike next?"

He sighed softly. "I've already thought about that."

"Then you realize that even France isn't truly safe. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he already has agents here, recruiting for his cause. Certain members of our society can be as narrow-minded as those across the channel, and you know it. In fact, I believe Gabrielle and I are safer with you in England than we would be here."

Jean-Sebastian let out a resigned sigh and leaned in to plant a tender kiss on his wife's cheek before he stood up. "There's still much work to be done."

Apolline, too, rose from her seat, her hands sorting through Gabrielle's clothing. But just before her husband departed, she felt compelled to express one final sentiment.

"Jean-Sebastian, please, let's not revisit this topic. I've made up my mind."

Pausing at the door, Jean-Sebastian cast a reassuring smile back at her. "I can see that you've made your decision. The matter is closed, and I won't mention it again."

Satisfied with his response, Apolline returned her focus to the task at hand as her husband exited the room.

The remainder of that Saturday afternoon was dedicated to ensuring all of the family's possessions were carefully packed and transported to their new residence with the assistance of the diligent house-elves. This primarily encompassed clothing and personal items, as most of the furniture would not be necessary at their new location, with the exception of a few cherished items, such as Jean-Sebastian's well-worn yet comfortable office chair. Apolline's meticulous housekeeping efforts had resulted in minimal transported belongings, as she had spent the afternoon meticulously sifting through the family's wardrobe, setting aside outdated items for either disposal or donation, and ensuring that everything essential for their new life would be readily accessible. As for Harry's clothing, which had predominantly been purchased the previous day, they were neatly packed in their bags, awaiting the journey ahead.

The shadow of Sirius' fugitive status still loomed over their gathering, casting a melancholic aura over the Chateau Delacour. He had been compelled to stay there to continue his recovery and wait for his trial, which had tentatively been scheduled for the middle of the following month. Despite his subdued spirits, Sirius managed to summon the energy for some playful teasing of his godson, offering promises of seeing him again at the trial and during the upcoming winter break.

The day's endeavors eventually led the family to their early evening arrival in England. They settled into their chosen bedrooms, stashed their belongings, and convened for a well-deserved evening meal. Despite their fatigue, there was an undercurrent of contentment, particularly in Harry, who was thrilled to be back in England.

At this juncture, Jean-Sebastian, having successfully integrated his new ward into the family and relocated them to England, resolved to proceed with his plan to contact Dumbledore regarding the secret society of which the headmaster was in charge. He made his way to his office and initiated a Floo call, deducing that the Headmaster would likely be in his office at Hogwarts. He requested a brief meeting to discuss matters of interest, and Dumbledore readily agreed, suggesting that they meet at Grimmauld Place to afford Harry the opportunity to reconnect with his friends. The arrangements were swiftly made, and thirty minutes later, Jean-Sebastian, along with Harry and Fleur, were traveling through the Floo connection.

As they emerged into the parlor, Jean-Sebastian was heartened by the warm reception Harry received from his friends. Over the past two days, he had heard much about these companions, particularly one Hermione Granger, who was presently enveloping his new ward in a tight embrace, much as she had done after the trial. It was reassuring to know that Harry had a robust support network to stand by him, especially considering the challenges that lay ahead.

Jean-Sebastian's fleeting concern dissipated swiftly as the introduction took place.

"Hey, guys," Harry began, his tone warm. "I'd like to introduce you all to my betrothed, Fleur Delacour."

The momentary silence was broken by Hermione, who took a deep breath, composed herself, and stepped forward to greet the young French witch. "Hello, Fleur. My name is Hermione Granger. Welcome to Grimmauld Place." A relieved sigh escaped Jean-Sebastian's lips, and he noticed a mirrored, albeit more subtle, sigh of relief from Fleur. His daughter reciprocated the greeting with a hint of hesitation, but her smile was genuine and radiated warmth.

The twins, Fred and George, approached Fleur and, with theatrical flair, executed elaborate bows. They both wore infectious, welcoming smiles.

"Any friend of Harry's is a friend of ours," said one, before the other chimed in, "She's his fiancée, George."

"I'm not George, I'm Fred!" declared the one who had spoken first. "And I'd hope that she's his friend, too."

"His friend?" the other twin retorted with a playful grin. "Wouldn't you like to be her friend? And don't call yourself Fred when we both know I'm Fred."

"You're delusional," Fred shot back with a wink. "And of course, I want to be her friend. Blokes like us look so much better when we have pretty friends."

The warm reception and the friendly banter eased any remaining apprehension, leaving Jean-Sebastian feeling even more assured of Harry's support system during the challenging times ahead.

"Shh… Don't say that too loud. You'll make little Harrikins angry for moving in on his girl," Fred quipped, nudging George playfully.

"I'm not moving on his girl—just trying to make myself look better by basking in the light of her glory," George countered with a grin.

"Well, just as long as you make certain everyone knows you're George when you make a fool out of yourself, that's fine. I'd prefer you didn't sully my name," Fred replied, feigning indignation.

"There you go again!" George laughed.

"There I go? It's you who persists in thinking you're Fred," Fred retorted.

"Well, then, I guess we'll just have to fall back on our old standby."

"Gred and Forge?"

"Yes, but remember—I'm Gred."

"But I'm…"

"Will you two stop it already?" Hermione's voice interrupted, her tone holding an amused exasperation. She turned back to Fleur, who had been following their playful exchange like a spectator at a tennis match, with her head moving back and forth.

The lighthearted banter continued, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere in the room, and Fleur couldn't help but smile at the camaraderie and the unique personalities of Harry's friends.

"Hello, Fleur. This is Fred and George, the Weasley twins," Hermione introduced them with a knowing smile. "Don't let them get going, or they can go on for hours."

"Yup, that's us!" one of the twins chimed in.

"You can call us Fred, George, Gred, Forge—it's all the same to us," the other added.

The twins' playful banter was designed to put Fleur at ease, and it worked like a charm, eliciting a genuine laugh from her and visibly relaxing her.

"Fleur will be attending Hogwarts this year," Harry announced. "She'll be in your year."

The twins exchanged a quick look before turning their attention back to Fleur, grinning broadly. "Brilliant!" they exclaimed in unison.

Hermione, taking the reins, decided it was time to continue the introductions.

"If you guys are quite finished," she began with a hint of amusement, "there are a couple more introductions to complete."

Hermione then turned to the other two redheaded individuals in the room and proceeded with the introductions. However, their reactions were markedly different from the twins' warm welcome. The youngest son, Ron, appeared almost tongue-tied and unable to form a coherent response, a situation with which Fleur was likely familiar, given her past experiences. On the other hand, the girl, Ginevra, seemed to be scrutinizing Jean-Sebastian's daughter with a discerning frown. The dynamics among the newcomers and the Weasley family were clearly a mix of warmth and reserve.

"So, that's how it stands," thought Jean-Sebastian. The evening of the trial, he had found Mrs. Weasley and her daughter to be somewhat cold, though he hadn't had much opportunity to observe them closely. The young woman, in particular, seemed like someone to keep an eye on.

At that moment, the room's door opened, and the Headmaster walked in, his warm greeting spreading cheer throughout the room.

After exchanging pleasantries, Dumbledore invited Jean-Sebastian to a nearby study. Confident that his daughter would be well cared for by Harry and his friends, Jean-Sebastian agreed, and they soon made their way out of the room.

Their initial conversation was a mix of small talk and discussions about the current situation, with Dumbledore expressing his approval of Jean-Sebastian's involvement in Harry's life.

"I am glad to hear young Harry is settling into his life with your family," Dumbledore finally stated after hearing Jean-Sebastian's account of the past few days. "I believe it will be good for him to witness firsthand how a wizarding family lives."

Jean-Sebastian fixed the Headmaster with a piercing stare. "I must admit that I am uncertain as to why you left Harry with those Muggles. I had heard of their treatment of him, but even so, I was unprepared for what I witnessed. They treated him like he was diseased, Dumbledore, denying him the basics of human love and affection. I am amazed that he has turned out as well as he has."

In that moment, Albus Dumbledore seemed to carry every one of his 114 years. He ran a hand over his weary eyes and briefly massaged his temples before locking eyes with his companion and heaving a heavy sigh.

"Unfortunately—or perhaps, fortunately—you can't fully comprehend what it was like here after the war, Jean-Sebastian. The country was in a state of celebration, yet, even after Voldemort's defeat, there lingered some uncertainty about who had supported the Dark Lord.

"Certain Death Eaters were unmistakable and had long been known as supporters of Voldemort, with irrefutable evidence of their involvement and crimes—individuals like the Lestranges, Mulciber, and Crouch Jr. were swiftly convicted and remain in Azkaban to this day."

"What about Malfoy? I've heard he was as deeply involved as anyone," Jean-Sebastian inquired.

"And you are correct," Dumbledore admitted somberly. "However, Malfoy wasn't directly tied to any crimes, even though we knew he had committed them while wearing the Death Eater's robes. He and others, such as Walden Macnair, were more elusive to pin down, despite our knowledge of their participation and, perhaps more significantly, their financial support of Voldemort's operations."

Jean-Sebastian regarded Dumbledore with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "Then why wasn't Veritaserum used? I recall reports from the time suggesting its use had been rejected, but the reasons were never clear."

Dumbledore's response was tinged with contemplation as he explained, "It was not as straightforward as one might imagine. We were in a state of disarray even after Voldemort's defeat, and our justice system was in chaos. The Minister had authorized the use of Veritaserum, but since the Wizengamot served as the judicial branch of our government, they had the power to overturn her directive. Consequently, individuals like Malfoy could claim the influence of the Imperius curse and effectively avoid imprisonment in Azkaban. Regrettably, I was not the Chief Warlock during that period, and despite my years as a member and some influence, I couldn't sway the Wizengamot away from that regrettable path."

"But why would the Wizengamot essentially undermine its own capacity for justice?" Jean-Sebastian inquired, perplexed.

Dumbledore explained, "The Pureblood faction feared losing their influence because many of their members had supported Voldemort and faced expulsion from their seats. They employed a combination of pleas, bribery, and threats to convince the rest of the Wizengamot to forgo the use of Veritaserum, arguing it was an 'infringement on the rights of their most upright members.'"

The explanation made sense and resonated with Jean-Sebastian's recollections of the time. Reports from France had been sporadic and incomplete, and while Voldemort had made headlines in French wizarding newspapers, wizarding France had largely regarded the situation as a British problem. To Jean-Sebastian, it appeared more like an attempt to bury their heads in the sand and dismiss a situation that had the potential to escalate into a significant international issue rather than merely a British one.

Jean-Sebastian was still left with a sense of uncertainty regarding the decision to place Harry with his mother's sister. It seemed implausible that Dumbledore couldn't have found a more suitable and trustworthy guardian for the boy.

"And Harry?" he pressed for more information.

"Harry posed a unique challenge," Dumbledore explained. "Ideally, I would have placed him with Sirius, but given our belief that Sirius was a traitor, I was uncertain about where to leave Harry. I must confess that there was a certain degree of panic in my thinking at the time. After all, if Sirius, who was as close as a brother to James, could be a traitor, then anyone could be."

"Thus, I chose to leave him with the one family I was certain had no affiliation with the Death Eaters. Knowing the Dursleys' strong aversion to magic, I believed that, at the very least, they would keep him safe from any hostile magical influence as long as we erected a set of powerful wards to conceal his presence. This arrangement was intended to be temporary while I sought a better solution."

Jean-Sebastian absorbed this information and inquired, "So, what happened next?" He was beginning to see that Harry's time with the Dursleys was a result of unfortunate circumstances rather than callous abandonment, and he hoped that Dumbledore's explanation held true. After all, the man was too crucial to the future struggle, and Jean-Sebastian's children would be under his care for a significant portion of each year.

"That's when the second issue emerged," Dumbledore replied, his expression marked by a sense of resignation. "I hadn't anticipated the immediate fame that came with the young boy and the overwhelming outpouring of sympathy and support. Literally overnight, there were petitions and applications to provide him with a home, dozens of them. I couldn't risk placing him in the care of someone less than trustworthy, as it would have spelled disaster."

"Are you suggesting that they might have tried to harm him?" Jean-Sebastian asked, his concern evident.

Dumbledore's expression turned contemplative. "That was one potential outcome. There was another, and both hinged on how much information the Dark Lord had shared with his followers."

"What do you mean?"

"The Dark Lord had targeted Harry's parents—James and Lily Potter. If that was the extent of what was known, I believe he would have been raised and indoctrinated with the Pureblood ideology."

"But their recruitment was based on blood purity, and Harry is not a Pureblood," Jean-Sebastian pointed out.

Dumbledore nodded, his expression reflecting his agreement. "Precisely. Harry's blood status would have made him a target for recruitment or, if the Dark Lord knew of his potential significance, an asset to manipulate and exploit. Keeping him hidden was crucial to ensure his safety and protect him from these possible fates."

"They were not as biased as they wanted everyone to believe," Dumbledore countered. "To gain admittance, all one needed was a sufficient level of personal loyalty to Voldemort, a thirst for power, and some level of blood purity. They did not accept Muggleborn members, but anyone with at least one magical parent was welcome with certain restrictions."

The logic behind this was sound; Voldemort, whatever his other faults, was not known for his stupidity. Limiting recruitment to a mere ten percent of the population when trying to seize control of a nation would have been a profoundly shortsighted approach.

"Then having Harry under the care of former Death Eaters would have been a problem," Jean-Sebastian concluded.

"In more ways than one," Dumbledore agreed. He then discreetly waved his wand, casting a series of privacy spells that fortified the room's walls and effectively silenced them from outside eavesdropping. Jean-Sebastian arched an eyebrow at the Headmaster's actions, but Dumbledore simply offered a reassuring smile.

"What I'm about to reveal to you must remain strictly within the confines of this room. Although I don't believe anyone is listening in, I cannot take any chances—particularly as the Weasley twins are known to be ingenious inventors who have managed to unearth some impressive secrets in their short lives."

Jean-Sebastian studied Dumbledore, noting the seriousness in his tone and demeanor. Whatever he was about to divulge, he clearly believed it was vital for Harry's safety. That conviction alone was sufficient to compel Jean-Sebastian's compliance with maintaining this secrecy.

"Do you wish for me to take a magical oath?" Jean-Sebastian offered.

Dumbledore nodded appreciatively. "I appreciate the offer, but it won't be necessary. I've come to know your character through our interactions in the ICW, and I believe in your unwavering commitment to Harry's protection. Your word is sufficient."

"Then you have it."

"Very well. The reason Harry was targeted by Voldemort was a prophecy I received while interviewing a candidate for the position of Divinations Professor the spring before Harry was born."

A frown creased Jean-Sebastian's forehead. "I must admit I have little faith in divination—how certain are you that this was a true prophecy?"

Dumbledore replied, "I witnessed it myself. I, too, hold little regard for that branch of magic, but in this case, the seer entered a trance without using her divination tools, recited the prophecy, and had no recollection of it afterward. The prophecy was recorded in the Hall of Prophecy. As you may recall, prophecies are safeguarded by the most ancient and potent of magics, and once I confirmed its presence there, I knew it was a genuine prophecy."

"The existence of the prophecy wouldn't have posed a problem had Voldemort not discovered it. Unfortunately, a young Death Eater happened to be eavesdropping outside the room and overheard a portion of it. He immediately rushed to his master to relay what he had heard. However, given that he only heard part of the prophecy and not the entire foretelling, Voldemort acted in a way that was completely different from what he would have done if he had known the missing pieces."

Dumbledore's explanation painted a picture that was just as concerning as Jean-Sebastian had anticipated. Yet there were still unanswered questions.

"How did you come to know of this if the Death Eater immediately reported to his master?" Jean-Sebastian inquired.

"I knew the young man," Dumbledore replied simply. "He was idealistic and believed, rightly in my opinion, that many aspects of the wizarding world needed reform. Unfortunately, he chose the wrong path for instigating change and has paid a heavy price ever since. Once he realized the implications of what he had set in motion and understood Voldemort's intentions, he came to me and confessed everything. Since that time, he has been a double agent—a spy within Voldemort's ranks who has continued in that role to this day."

The revelation that a traitor was responsible for his childhood friend's death weighed heavily on Jean-Sebastian. He was already aware of Peter Pettigrew's betrayal and harbored a burning desire for justice. However, this individual had set in motion the chain of events that led to his friend's demise. A fierce determination surged within him as he fixed a piercing gaze on the Headmaster.

"Who was it?" Jean-Sebastian demanded to know.

Dumbledore shook his head and returned a steady gaze to his companion. "There is no reason to share that with you, and every reason to keep it a secret. For the sake of his protection and the invaluable information he provides, especially with Voldemort's return, I must keep his identity concealed."

Jean-Sebastian scrutinized Dumbledore, his emotions in turmoil. "How can you be certain that this individual isn't manipulating you as well?"

"Because I hold leverage over him," Dumbledore replied quietly, his eyes betraying a hint of irritation. "I may be many things and have made mistakes, Jean-Sebastian, but never mistake me for a fool. As soon as the Death Eater came to me, I ensured his compliance and secured his loyalty. He risks his life daily and has proven his worth."

Despite his dissatisfaction with Dumbledore's secrecy, Jean-Sebastian nodded curtly. "I demand to be kept informed the moment anything changes," he insisted, to which Dumbledore responded with a nod. "Now, what does this prophecy say?"

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

A chilling aura seemed to permeate the room as the seer's words hung in the air. The language was characteristic of prophecies, filled with cryptic references and predictions that could be interpreted in numerous ways. Jean-Sebastian could only speculate that it was a genuine prophecy, given Dumbledore's account of his origins.

"That is indeed a rather vague prophecy," Jean-Sebastian observed after taking a moment to ponder.

"Indeed, it is. However, when examined closely, one can glean a clearer understanding of its meaning.

"The initial lines are somewhat cryptic, specifying that the child would be born to parents who had faced the Dark Lord three times and survived and that the child would be born in or near the end of July."

"What about September? It's the seventh month in the Roman calendar," Jean-Sebastian pointed out.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in response. "I did consider that possibility. However, given that September was still several months away and the other conditions couldn't be met, I concluded that it had to be July. There were two young boys who met the criteria—Harry Potter and one other. Furthermore, the Death Eater only heard the first two lines that day; otherwise, Voldemort's actions would likely have been entirely different."

"It's the third line that points to the prophecy being about Harry—when Voldemort attacked the Potters in 1981, he left Harry with a scar that 'marked him as his equal.' He could have chosen to attack the other young boy, but for reasons known only to Voldemort himself, he targeted the Potters. I can only surmise that the other boy would have been next had Voldemort succeeded."

"And the 'power the Dark Lord knows not'?"

"It's unclear," Dumbledore responded. "However, I believe that power is the power of love. Voldemort never experienced love as a young man, and I don't believe he comprehends its strength or the lengths to which most people will go to protect their loved ones. The only witnesses to that night are deceased, except for a young boy who couldn't possibly recall what occurred, let alone understand it. In reconstructing the events, I hypothesized that Lily Potter cast a blood-based protection on her son, sealed by her own death, which is why Harry survived the Killing Curse."

The explanation seemed plausible; there were countless forgotten and ancient magics in the world, and it was entirely feasible that a mother could have employed one of the most potent positive emotions to safeguard her son.

"So, has this 'power he knows not' been depleted?"

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore countered. "Harry, despite his upbringing with the Dursleys, possesses an extraordinary capacity for love. And let's not forget the inclusion of your daughter in the equation—aren't Veela powers primarily rooted in love?"

A chill ran down Jean-Sebastian's spine as he considered the implications of the Headmaster's words. Had he inadvertently bestowed upon Harry the means for the ultimate defeat of the Dark Lord? And what role did his daughter have to play in all of this? Could she be destined to join forces with Harry to vanquish the Dark Lord? The possibilities were staggering, and Jean-Sebastian momentarily marveled at his own failure to discern them.

"So, you believe this power first revealed itself on the night Voldemort was defeated… and that it still has a role to play."

"In essence, yes. There may be other elements that must come into play, but they will need to unfold in due time."

After further reflection, Jean-Sebastian thought he comprehended why the Headmaster had acted the way he had. "And the fact that the prophecy explicitly states that one of them must die implies that it doesn't refer to the night Harry's parents were killed."

"Indeed," Dumbledore affirmed. "The term 'vanquish' implies that once Harry survived the night when Voldemort was defeated, the prophecy could have been fulfilled. However, the fourth line states that they are destined to encounter each other and that one of them must ultimately kill the other. Whatever transpired that night, it is clear that Voldemort did not 'die' at Harry's hand—it was his mother's sacrifice, or so I believe, that led to his downfall."

"It's a substantial amount of supposition and speculation to build an entire strategy upon."

Dumbledore offered a nonchalant shrug in response. "True, it is. However, the return of the Dark Lord seems to corroborate this theory. Voldemort had been known to claim that he had progressed further on the path to immortality than anyone else, so I believe he wasn't truly killed that night. He was certainly left disembodied, but he wasn't genuinely defeated. Harry is the only one who can bring about his ultimate demise."

Though cautious about accepting such a cryptic prophecy at face value, Jean-Sebastian recognized that this wasn't the time for extensive contemplation. Dumbledore's interpretation appeared reasonable, and, for now, it made sense to proceed with caution as though it were the literal truth.

"While there is still a level of ambiguity, it does seem plausible."

"Indeed, my friend, all prophecies are inherently ambiguous," Dumbledore acknowledged with a nod. "We can never be entirely certain until the events have transpired. We must base our actions on what we believe and adapt as circumstances dictate."

"Has Harry been made aware?" Jean-Sebastian knew his inquiry was direct, but he wanted to understand why this information had been withheld from him, despite already knowing the answer.

"No, I have not disclosed this to Harry," Dumbledore replied, preempting any further comments from Jean-Sebastian. "It is a considerable burden for a young man to bear. While I hold Harry in high regard and believe in his capability, I don't think he's prepared for this revelation."

"When do you intend to inform him, then?"

Dumbledore pondered for a moment before responding, "I had considered assessing his progress this year and potentially informing him around his sixteenth birthday. The timing will depend on his level of maturity and whether I believe he is prepared to handle it."

Though he remained skeptical, Jean-Sebastian grasped the reasoning behind the Headmaster's approach. "I have pledged not to keep anything from Harry—my daughter insisted on this. However, I recognize that you may be correct in this instance. Nevertheless, he must be informed, Dumbledore, and sooner rather than later."

"I will take time to consider it further," Jean-Sebastian stated.

Dumbledore nodded and responded, "I understand your caution. Now, let us discuss the reason for your visit tonight."

A casual wave of Dumbledore's hand signaled for Jean-Sebastian to proceed. "I would like to learn more about this Order you have established."

"Are you interested in joining?"

Jean-Sebastian shook his head. "I'm not ready to commit just yet. I would like to gather more information, attend some meetings, and get a sense of how things are conducted before making any decisions."

"That is a reasonable approach," Dumbledore acknowledged. "I founded the Order during the first war against Voldemort when it became clear that the Ministry was ineffective in dealing with him. We engaged in various activities, including intelligence gathering, combat, and security. I have been reassembling it for the impending conflict, as I have little confidence in the Ministry's capabilities, just as I did fifteen years ago. Our next meeting will be held here next Saturday, and you are welcome to attend if you wish."

"I will be there," Jean-Sebastian confirmed. "As the French Ambassador, my overt actions will be limited, but if I decide to join, you can count on my full support."

"Very well."

This led to one more topic of discussion. "There is one more matter I'd like to address. I've spoken with Harry, and I believe he would benefit from some specialized training. The standard curriculum at school may not be sufficient for what he will have to face."

"An excellent suggestion!" Dumbledore agreed. "I had intended to commence Harry's training this year regardless. It seems you wish to get an early start?"

Jean-Sebastian confirmed his intent, and Dumbledore continued, "In that case, may I recommend Alastor Moody as his instructor? I doubt you will find a more knowledgeable and experienced trainer, especially on such short notice."

Jean-Sebastian was aware of Moody's reputation. He briefly considered the fact that Moody had been impersonated by the man who had orchestrated Harry's capture and the return of the Dark Lord during the Triwizard Tournament but dismissed that concern. Harry had no reason to distrust the real Moody.

"Auror Moody would be an acceptable choice. Please contact him to see if he's willing. If he is, have him get in touch with me, and we can arrange the details."

With their discussion concluded, Jean-Sebastian rose, shook Dumbledore's hand, and left the room, now equipped with vital knowledge to ensure Harry's safety and eventual triumph. While Hermione was delighted to see her friend, she couldn't shake her underlying tension and unease.

Hermione's inner turmoil brewed, and the familiar anxiety that had once plagued her resurfaced with a vengeance. She wrestled with these feelings, which she had assumed were long buried beneath years of friendship and self-confidence. The fear of abandonment gnawed at her, and she felt a growing unease as she observed Harry's blossoming relationships.

Despite Harry's warmth and kindness, Hermione couldn't help but compare herself to Fleur. The Veela's grace and charm contrasted sharply with her own bookish nature. Fleur's presence seemed to fill the room effortlessly, and Hermione couldn't shake the sensation of fading into the background.

While Harry had always been her closest friend, the mere thought of him sharing his life with Fleur invoked an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. Hermione struggled to conceal her insecurities, fighting against the mounting worry that Harry's newfound happiness might come at the cost of their friendship.

These feelings swirled within her as she spent time with her best friend, even as she smiled and engaged in conversation. She hoped these emotions were nothing more than temporary, irrational fears that would dissipate as time went on. But for now, she couldn't help but feel vulnerable, small, and overshadowed.

The tension that had gripped Hermione began to dissipate as she and Harry shared this moment of laughter. It was a reminder of their strong bond and the warmth of their friendship. Despite the storm of emotions that had plagued her earlier, she was grateful for Harry's lighthearted response.

But once the laughter subsided, Harry's expression grew earnest. He gazed at Hermione with a gentle, understanding look, waiting for her to reveal what had truly been bothering her. Hermione took a deep breath and decided to confide in him.

"Harry, I was just... worried. I've been seeing you with Fleur, and I can't help but wonder if I'm going to lose you as a friend."

Harry's face softened as he took in her words. He reached out and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, you're my best friend, and that won't change. Fleur is important to me, but so are you. You've been with me through everything, and nothing will ever replace that."

A sense of relief washed over Hermione as she absorbed Harry's words. She knew she had overreacted, but her fear of abandonment had temporarily clouded her judgment. Harry's reassurance was like a soothing balm to her insecurities.

"I'm sorry, Harry. It's just that, with all the changes happening in your life, I got a bit overwhelmed."

Harry nodded with understanding. "I get it. But no matter what changes, you're a constant in my life. We're a team, Hermione, and nothing can change that."

Their bond felt stronger than ever as they shared this moment of vulnerability and reassurance, reminding themselves of the unbreakable friendship that had carried them through countless trials.

Touched by Harry's sincerity and reassurance, Hermione felt her worries continue to melt away. She was grateful for his words, even though they were exactly what she had needed to hear.

"Harry, I know it sounds silly, but I just needed to hear it from you," she admitted, her voice tinged with gratitude. "You've been my best friend too, and I didn't want to lose that."

Harry smiled warmly. "Hermione, you're stuck with me for life. I don't care who comes into my life; you'll always be my rock."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she couldn't help but pull him into a tight hug. They both knew that their friendship was built on trust and unwavering support. No matter what changes came their way, they would always be there for each other, and nothing could break their bond.

As they continued to talk and share their concerns and hopes for the future, Hermione felt a renewed sense of assurance and gratitude for the friend she held so dear. The challenges that lay ahead would be faced together, just as they always had been.

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