Fleur Delacour gracefully strolled out of the white marble halls of Gringotts Paris.
"Bonjour, Fleur!" one of the old shopkeepers greeted her as she made her way towards the exit of Paris' bustling magical shopping center.
"Bonjour," she returned with a small smile.
"Running late?" he asked in her native French.
"Yes," she laughed as she walked by. "Only by a little, I hope."
"Good luck!"
She'd just taken a dizzyingly long floo trip through the private Gringotts international system. It was one of the perks of being an employee of the bank. Once she was able to, she took a portkey into the receiving room of her family home.
"Welcome home, mistress," a soft voice greeted her.
"Thank you, Bette," she said to the small house-elf.
She was quite old and had served the family for many years. Compared to the house-elves she was used to seeing around Firewall, Bette seemed much calmer and formal.
"Can Bette be doing anything for the mistress?"
"If you could please start the fire for me; I need to use the floo."
"Of course, mistress."
She waited patiently as the small elf cleaned the cold hearth with a snap of her fingers and loaded it with fresh kindling. It had clearly been many weeks since it had been used.
"The powder, mistress."
"Thank you, Bette," she said as she took a handful.
"Mistress be calling Bette if she's can be helping at all," she said firmly.
"I will," she promised. "Au revoir!"
Much to her stomachs relief, the floo trip was shorter this time.
She was ejected after a few seconds into a grandiose room with a domed ceiling and white marble floors. All of the occupants, mostly veela or their families, paused to stare at her in surprise.
"Ms. Delacour," a cool, bell-toned voice greeted in French. "Welcome back to the convent."
Fleur turned and saw one of the matriarchs in the powder blue silk and lace robes favored by the court. It was a rather dramatic style of vintage French dress.
"Thank you, Matrone Lesage," she said with a small curtsy. "How do you do?"
Once the onlookers saw their matriarch welcome her, they stopped staring and went back about their days. Some even offered her a small wave, recognizing her even though it had been months since her last visit.
"I am well," the ethereal white-blonde woman returned with a graceful nod. "And you?"
"I have been doing well," she answered. "And I enjoy my work in Britain very much."
"I see you have not joined us for leisure," she said, her crystalline eyes shining with interest as they saw the crest on the letter Fleur carried. "I would assume, like many of us, your mind rests on the war."
"Yes, Madame," Fleur agreed after a moment of hesitance.
"Come," the woman beckoned towards the spiraling marble staircase that dominated the heart of the convent. "Join me in meeting with your mother."
They walked quietly through the halls without speaking.
Fleur noticed that the living areas were bursting with people of veela relation and descent of all ages. In fact, she hazarded to guess that they were reaching the maximum capabilities space expansion charms.
Things were looking rather crowded until the amount of traffic suddenly decreased when they climbed the stairs to the highest level of the building.
Soon, they approached her mothers study and were bade to enter after two short knocks.
"Hello, Adella-" Apolline's greeting was cut off when her daughter followed the matriarch into the room. "Fleur, my darling daughter. What has brought you here?"
"Many things, mother," Fleur answered after her mother had hugged her tightly. "Perhaps it could wait until you and Matrone Lesage are finished?"
"Speak freely, child," Adella Lesage said as she made herself comfortable in front of her mother's desk. "I have much interest in knowing what a British Lord would have to say to the council."
Fleur shifted slightly and tried not to let the forward and intimidating woman ruffle her feathers.
The veela matriarchs were always stifling to be around. They were the strongest of their kind in both political and magical ways. It would have been easier to speak to her mother alone but Apolline seemed inclined to agree with Adella.
"I come with my own words as well, Madame," she rebuked while primly taking the other free seat. Her mother retook her seat and gestured for her to continue. "I'd like to talk to you about the war, Mama."
"You know that the council's position is not something to be discussed within family, Fleurette."
"Then perhaps for this meeting you ignore our relation," the young woman responded while tucking the letter under her thigh. "Today I am here because I have chosen to take a side in this war."
"So you have joined the forces of Dumbledore?" Adella interjected.
Fleur made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "Non, non — never."
"The British Ministry?" Apolline interjected this time.
"Again, non," the youngest blonde in the room huffed. "I have joined a group that will actually change Britain, one that will win the war. No empty promises like that Headmaster who is as smart as the bottom of his feet. None of the nonsense of their Ministry just solutions to problems caused by this Voldemort."
"A problem which belongs to the British and not to us," Apolline reminded her daughter with appraising eyes — she had never known her eldest daughter to be so passionate about anything outside of the arts.
"Oui? So why have we left our homes and come here?"
"A precaution," Adella answered sharply. "Prompted by the threat of attack."
"It was more than a threat, Matrone," Fleur disagreed. "It is a known fact that the DuBois chateau was attacked just after they left to come here. Some of us were even chased out of the shops — our Ministry is now allowing us to be treated like common dogs. That is why all of our sisters and their families are here."
"They are close so we can protect them."
"And if the wards here fell?" Fleur continued. "The convents location is no secret. Is it not true that there are agents of this Voldemort outside our gates?"
"They would never gain entry."
"Oui? So these wards could withstand giants and the Dark Lord himself? More than that, could they survive the French ministry turning on us?"
"Your father has assured me that things are not so bad," Apolline refuted.
"Papa is being pushed out of the loop and he knows it," Fleur refuted; with Baron Greengrass' international contacts, the DA knew plenty about the French Ministry and it's inner workings. "Minister Benoit will not be reelected in two months and Papa is not likely to be on the new cabinet as he is now. What will the veela do then as our mobility decreases and trade restrictions increase? What will we do when they begin to treat us more and more like creatures?"
"We will retreat behind the safety of the wards of our convents and lesser outposts," Adella's cool voice answered. "That is all we can do."
"Why can we not fight?"
"Fight?" her mother parroted back.
"Are the Veela not descendants of the ancient Valkyrie? Does fire not run in our veins and in our tempers? Have all of us not been educated in the ways of physical defense and are there not Veela who have extensively continued that study?"
"It is the study of combat, Fleur, not practice," her mother lectured. "We are not soldiers and we are not going to fight any wizards war."
"You think this a wizards war? Do you not think that werewolves and vampires will fight in it too? Have you thought of the consequences of a loss to the Dark Lord? Will veela not be impacted, possibly enslaved, should Voldemort have his way? We are prized for our beauty, after all."
"You are thinking of the worst," Adella told her. "The veela thrive here in the convent regardless of what is happening externally."
"I am thinking of the future, Matrone, and a not so distant one."
There was silence for a moment as the older women thought while sharing small looks. Apolline eventually nodded to Adella whom was the most senior matriarch in the room.
"We have heard your words, young Delacour, now we might hear the words of your British Lord."
Fleur looked to her mother before pulling the letter free and tapping it twice with her slender wand. It folded up much like a howler would and began reading its contents in Harry's voice in perfect French.
"The Lord Gryffindor cordially greets the Veela Matriarchs and requests their considerations in the matter of an offer of asylum as an alternative to foreign or domestic moderation.
While we are located a channel apart, French and British economic, socioeconomic, and political trends are invariably connected. This fact is even truer in times of war like that which is upon us. Here, a Ministry controlled by a dark and oppressive hand limits the rights of magical beings of all standings which is something I and my associated allies heavily oppose. The same thing is happening across the channel in France, a fact of which I am sure you are aware.
Already, the false-Lord Voldemort has reached out to you in an effort to secure the alliance of the Matriarchs. He believes that the allure veela are capable of radiating will be a valuable tool on the frontline of his war effort as a distraction against the weak-minded members of his opposition. Like many other's before him, he seeks only to use the physical and magical attributes of the veela while making false promises for a future that he does not intend to keep.
Here, I make a different offer.
While the Gryffindor title of Duke died with the imposition of the International Statue of Wizarding Secrecy in 1692, the duchy of my lands did not. By order of William I, the first Norman King of England in the year of 1070, lands associated with the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin lines may always and forever be considered their own duchy. Any whom are afforded citizenship to this duchy by the reigning Lord are to receive all rights and legal protections afforded to any other citizen.
It is to this duchy I extend an invitation. By taking the veela as a whole under the banner of Gryffindor, the veela may be legally allowed to cross the channel and join my stronghold in the far North. They would not be subject to any outside governance, travel or trade restrictions, or other methods of subjugation proposed by both French and British Ministries. My personal protection would be extended to every man, woman, and child that the Matriarchs have extended their protection to.
It is my hope that this missive will be well received and in the spirit it was intended. Europe is facing a threat that will impact innocent lives more so than anything else and it is those lives, your lives, that we seek to protect.
Thanking you most sincerely for your time, Hoping for further communication
The Lord Gryffindor."
Fleur fought the urge to fidget in the silence that followed Harry's carefully scripted message. Both her mother and the elder matriarch looked surprised by the offer contained within the letter. Even Adella whom had apparently seen and recognized the crest on the letter had a look of beautiful confusion.
After another long moment, her slender manicured hand pulled the refolded letter out of the air where it was still floating. It disappeared into the folds of Adella's inner robes before she stood and straightened her skirts.
"There will be a council meeting tonight, Apolline."
"Quite," the golden-blonde woman agreed with a tight nod.
Adella graced Fleur with another cool nod before leaving her and her mother alone in the pastel colored study.
"You know this Lord Gryffindor?" Apolline asked when the door sealed shut. "I notice how he gives us no other name."
"I do, Mama," Fleur agreed. "And you know I would not have brought this to you if I did not think he were capable of delivering."
"Asking the veela to move across the channel — it is impossible."
"More impossible than keeping everyone in this building? It was not made to house families in the long term, Mama, and it is already overflowing."
Apolline grimaced. "I am the one who happens to be in charge of housing — you are, unfortunately, not incorrect."
The strict formal pose Apolline held when acting in her role as a matriarch faded away as she slumped into her comfortable plush chair. Her aura dimmed and Fleur could more easily read the stress lines in her mother's face.
"The treasury is being severely strained as well — that is what Adella and I were meeting about this afternoon."
"How many of us are here now?"
"There are currently 213 people in the convent," Apolline answered freely. "And we're expecting at least ten more in the next two weeks."
Fleur whistled lowly and adjusted her dark blue robe. In doing so, her mother caught sight of her odd body armor.
"I see you are a warrior princess now, Fleurette," the elder veela said after a long moment. "Just as your father always said."
"Oui, Mama," she said softly. "I am helping people."
"But not your people?" Apolline asked somewhat acerbically.
Fleur recoiled slightly but puffed back up.
"This is me trying to do something for my people," she returned, quieting when she noticed her mother's regretful features.
The silence dragged on for a long moment.
"H-" Fleur cleared her throat. "Lord Gryffindor can fix the issues you just told me of if you only give him a chance, Mama. Our people could live in comfort and safety without being overcrowded. The treasury would no longer have to support the costs of living for 213 people."
"At the cost of leaving France — our home, if you don't remember."
"Non," Fleur said with a sharp shake of her head that left blonde locks tussled. "Home is with your family."
"If that is so, then why have you not been home in so long?"
"Because I am grown and at a point in my life where I can help others, where I can be a part of something that is greater than myself."
There was a tense silence for a moment before Apolline released another sigh.
"I am sorry, darling," she apologized. "You are right; I admire the woman that you have become. To do anything other than what you think is correct would not be true to yourself. This is just the stress of a long year and the strain of missing one of my favorite daughters speaking."
"There is only two of us, Mama."
"Ah, of course I have two favorites," she said lightly. "How could I choose between two such perfect daughters?"
The rehearsed banter eased the remaining tensions between mother and daughter and the two spent a few more minutes relaxing.
"Perhaps you would like to see Gabrielle? Your Papa may even be back by now," Apolline said. "And I will be sure that the council contacts you with a response no matter what it may be."
"Thank you, Mama," the young woman said with gratitude as she stood and took her mother's hand. "Let us go home for a little bit then, oui?"
"Oui."
…
Jason Swann and Seamus Finnegan were looking at the world through various shades and gradients of grey. The effect was caused by one of the DA's new night vision spells and it was invaluable as they patrolled the perimeter and inner edges of the Forbidden Forest.
Accompanying the two DA members were two centaurs, Ariadne and Ramadi.
Ramadi had the lower half of a percheron, light brown and speckled. His hair was kept in short, rough dreads. Ariadne was a deep mercurial silver. The hair atop his head matched the color and was tied into a silken topknot.
Both Jason and Seamus trained their eyes on something on the path up ahead. It was sparkling with silver specks in their spelled vision so they knew there was something alive and magical.
"It's just the billy-wig tree," Jason said lowly once he was sure.
"Things seem quiet tonight."
"I prefer this calm silent to the eerie whispers of recent nights," Ariadne spoke in a lilting baritone as he guided a billy-wig off of his white-wood bow and back onto the branch of it's tree.
"Too true, brother," Ramadi agreed. "Our lands have grown strange and weird — especially since the solstice this past summer."
"Times are changing, mates," Seamus said easily.
Surprisingly, neither of the centaurs seemed perturbed by the friendly title.
There had been a slight misunderstanding about the wizard meaning of mate and the centaur meaning of mate the first time Seamus had patrolled with this particular pair but things had been cleared up since then.
It had been decided by Balthazar and the DA tacticians that it would be better to pair the same couple of centaurs with the same couple of DA members to promote familiarity. Then they started a patrol rotation. There were three groups that alternated days of the week doing forest patrols and today was theirs.
"We have seen no signs of spiders here now," Ariadne commented as they walked past a pair of close standing trees that had been roughly brushed free of spider webs when the hunting parties had come through.
"That's what I like to hear," Jason muttered.
The group quieted when they heard the crack of twigs in the trees. The centaurs prepared their weapons, Ramadi wielding two small axes with more strapped across his chest, while the two DA members dropped into a more ready stance.
"Detection spell registers a non-human life form on four legs," Jason said, his answer enough to get the patrol party and the conversation moving again.
"I don't think it's anything to worry about," Seamus said.
"Do not be fooled by the spiders, Swann," Ramadi told Jason as he picked the conversation back up in as friendly of a tone as the rough centaur could manage. "They have only moved deeper into the heart of the forest."
"That's comforting," he muttered sarcastically.
"I hear Balthazar is planning another hunting party," Ariadne said. "Soon, they will be just another of our legends to sing songs about."
"Sing songs?" Seamus asked curiously.
"It is how we celebrate successful hunts and how we remember the triumphs of our ancestors," Ramadi answered.
"I know lots of songs," the Irishman grinned before deflating slightly. "None like that though. Most of mine are about fighting and partying."
"Our songs are like that too," Ariadne said in slight confusion.
Jason whistled lowly and shook his head. "Not like the Irish, Ariadne. I used to live in an Irish neighborhood — meanest drunks I ever did see."
"All Irishman have a mean streak," Seamus defended.
"Perhaps sometime we will hear these songs," Ramadi told them slowly. He, and many of the other centaurs on patrol with these humans, were beginning to find them quite interesting.
"Deal," Seamus agreed.
"Oh boy," was all Jason could say. He'd be quite interested to see that.
…
Ron was leaning over Sally-Anne's shoulder as she pointed out defensive points on the second and third floors of Hogwarts overlooking the entrance hall.
"Maybe we should shift this from here to here," he pointed.
"Yeah, okay," she hummed, making a note. "What about here?"
He gave her a few more pieces of input then stood back to let her finish filling in her plans.
"Thanks, Ron."
"Anytime."
Movement from the second-floor loft that had become a small research library drew his eye. Hermione was sitting near the banister at a small study table with new stacks of books floating towards her.
He watched her for a second as she pursed her lips, forehead crinkling with concentration. She ran her quill along her chin then along her pink, bow-shaped lips. He smiled slightly as he watched her tickle her nose with the feather then scrunch it cutely.
Before he knew it, his feet were moving him towards the marble spiral steps.
He'd caught himself watching her more and more often. The friendly shoulder pats were lasting longer and longer on both of their parts and they found any excuse to draw out time spent together in the common room before bed.
At this point, he didn't know what he was waiting for. He definitely wasn't going to wait for the war to be over so sooner was better than later.
"Hermione," he said in a more steady voice than he thought himself capable of.
"Yes, Ron?" she asked, looking up as he stepped up the last couple of stairs.
"I was thinking," he said slowly before trailing off.
"Ron?"
"Oh, sorry," he shook his head. "I was thinking, you want to grab a butterbeer with me at the Three Broomsticks next Hogsmeade weekend?"
"Sure," she agreed, putting a finishing touch on her notes. "You want to invite Harry?"
"No, Hermione," he answered deliberately as she looked up and met his eyes. "I'm inviting you. Maybe we can go on a walk through the residential area — I hear they've got some great fairy lights put up already."
"Oh you mean-" she stuttered, cheeks flushing with heat.
Ron saw the blush and thought it was all the more endearing. "Yes," he answered.
"Like a-"
"A date," he filled in, beginning to blush himself as the feeling of awkwardness grew. She was going to say no.
"Absolutely!" she said excitedly. "I mean," she cleared her throat. "Yes, yes."
"Meet me in the entrance hall on Sunday?"
"That sounds perfect."
…
"And she said yes?" Harry asked Ron an hour later as the two exited the DA Cathedral and headed for dinner. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," he confirmed enthusiastically. "Blimey, what time am I supposed to meet her?"
"At noon, Ron, the same time everyone else normally leaves for Hogsmeade."
"Right, right," he agreed, thinking deeply for a moment as they walked in silence. "Should I get her flowers?"
"A flower," Harry answered immediately. "Don't want her carrying them around the whole time."
"Right, right," Ron agreed again while still deep in thought. "Blimey, what am I gonna wear?"
"Your warmest robes and an overcoat in case she gets cold."
"Right, r-" the redhead paused. "Harry, why do you know all this?"
"Do you even know how many crying girls come to me about insensitive boyfriends and exes?" he retorted. "A lot. A whole lot."
"I don't envy you, mate," he said. "But…you got anymore advice?"
"Maybe. But I've definitely got an idea."
"An idea?" Ron asked.
"Yep. You want a memorable first date, right?"
…
That night in a different part of the castle, another romance was blooming.
"You're staring, Zabini."
"You're a walking distraction with hair that shiny, Greengrass."
"Did you just compliment my hair?"
"So what if I did?"
"Nothing. I'm just impressed that you managed to make it sound like an insult."
"Yes well," the normally extremely collected Slytherin cleared his throat. "I am a man of many talents."
Neither of them spoke for a moment as they continued their prefect patrols through the dungeon corridors. Regardless of their short banter, they still kept a watchful eye on their surroundings.
"I've been thinking," Blaise said after a moment. "We haven't spent a lot of time together."
"We patrol four nights out of the week together plus meetings plus meals…"
"I meant outside of school and other activities."
"Okay, and?"
"And what?"
"And you started this conversation," the pretty blonde girl said as she turned her head sharply towards her prefect partner. "Were you perhaps thinking that we should be spending more time together?"
"Yes," he said simply.
"Then would you like to get some tea in the lounge behind the Missing Maiden's portrait?"
"Right now?" Blaise blinked; this isn't how he expected this to have gone.
"Of course not you neanderthal," she huffed. "After patrol."
"Oh, well, yes, absolutely."
"Alright then."
"Fine."
"Fine."
The two Slytherin's didn't need to say anything else.
…
Breakfast on Saturday morning saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team clustered together. Today was the first match of the year and it was Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff.
"We've got this guys. We've been practicing all month for Hufflepuff's starting line up," Harry told his team. "I know they've got Zacharias Smith and a couple of other heavy hitters but we've prepared for every play they know."
"Every play we think they know," Katie corrected. "I, for one, am not underestimating them."
"Ginny, Demelza," Harry said to his two new chasers. "Katie's taught you ladies just about every move in the book. I know you're both worried about living up to the flying foxes, as Lee calls them, but the important part is doing your best to keep your eye on the ball and on your other two chasers. This is Jimmy and Ritchie's first match too but I don't doubt you two can keep the bludgers off the girls backs. If not, I'll be running interference and keeping an eye on their seeker, Summerby."
"And looking for the snitch," Ginny pitched in helpfully.
"That too," Harry agreed before continuing. "And Ron…"
"I know, I know," the redhead picked up. "Keep the quaffle out of our hoops."
"Nope but do that too," Harry said. "I was gonna say don't vomit — you're looking a little green mate."
"Thanks, 'mate,'" Ron returned sarcastically.
"Ten minutes to the hour," Harry said as he stood and took a final bite of his toast. "Let's go get our uniforms on."
…
The Gryffindor v. Hufflepuff was a closer match than most expected to see.
Zacharias had apparently shamelessly used some of the DA's aerial defense tactics while teaching Hufflepuff's other two chasers and so they all worked in near perfect tandem. Harry couldn't blame him — Ginny and Katie had done the same thing with Demelza. As Katie was the captain of the air squad though Harry thought Gryffindor might have the advantage.
Ron, unfortunately, had to deal with quite the barrage as did the Hufflepuff keeper.
By the time the end grew near, it was 70 to 80 in Gryffindor's favor. Clearly, it would be a match of the seekers.
As was usually the case, Harry was simply a superior seeker. Even if he divided his attention between the snitch and running interference for his team unlike most other seekers, he still outdid Summerby by a landslide.
In the end, Harry caught the snitch in the middle of the pitch before the other seeker could get more than halfway to it. The game drew to a close with a victory for Gryffindor and a riotous cheering from the stands.
…
The party in the common room nearly took the place of lunch but was grudgingly called to a halt at McGonagall's insistence. Since she had allowed Hufflepuff's to party in the Gryffindor common room for a couple of hours, they decided to break it up when she asked politely. They didn't even start up a Gryffindor only after party out of respect.
The Golden Trio, the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and a good portion of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team trooped down to lunch together then split to go to their house tables when they reached the Great Hall.
"You played very well, Ron," Hermione told him honestly as they took their customary seats at the Gryffindor table.
"Seriously? Did you see how many times the quaffle fell out of my hands?"
"Twice," Harry answered. "And both times because of a bludger."
"Yeah well, the other times were just me missing the ball," he complained only to cry out in pain as Fay Dunbar's hand made a solid connection with Ron's head. "Ow! Bloody hell, woman."
"Ms. Dunbar?" the reproachful and somewhat confused tone of Professor Flitwick rang out — he'd been passing the table and was out of the eyesight of Fay when she'd made her strike.
"Just knocking some self-doubt out of a friend, Professor."
"I see," he said with a small smile. "Perhaps there are other methods of doing so?"
"I'm pretty sure this is the only one, sir," Fay said cheekily.
"I have to agree, Professor," Hermione said without looking up from her textbook. "This friend is particularly dense. He just can't seem to be happy with his win."
"Oi, woman!" Ron protested.
"Perhaps your friend should recognize that I saw two particularly talented teams play a good, fair match today," Professor Flitwick told Fay. "Celebrate your victories, Mr. Weasley."
"Thanks, Professor," Fay said with a smile.
"Yeah, thanks Professor," Ron echoed.
Dinner after that passed quickly.
When it was over, many students retired to their common rooms to catch up on homework or hurried to the library before closing hour. Some of the DA chose to return to the Cathedral. Harry got there just in time to see Fleur arrive with a heavy cream parchment bearing a blue wax seal.
"Hey Fleur,"
"Ello Harry, Ronald, Hermione," she greeted. "The matriarchs have sent their reply."
"Think we should call a meeting?" Ron asked.
"Probably," Hermione agreed. "I think everyone is pretty interested to know what the veela have to say."
"I'll send the signal; we should be ready in fifteen," Harry said.
"I'll get Slippy to set up," Hermione responded.
…
"Come on Potter, open it already," Zara ordered eagerly, quill hovering over a sheet of parchment she'd prepared for note taking.
"Hold your horses, Zara," he responded. "Fleur, run us over the basics of your conversation with your mother and Adella Lesage, please?"
"My mother is in charge of housing and says they have 213 living in the convent now with at least ten more expected."
Ron whistled a little.
"Wow," Harry said.
"They are over capacity and the treasury, which Adella Lesage oversees, is running low. Voldemort has reached out but they're uninterested — they know him for what he is. My father, their greatest foothold in the Ministry, will be out, so to say, with the next election. They plan to rely on the convents wards and other safe houses to weather this war."
"The bury their heads in the sand method," Megan snorted. "Nice."
"They do not know what else to do," Fleur defended hotly.
"That's why we gave them an option," Harry soothed while shooting both hotheads a look. "Let's see what they have to say."
With a tap of Hermione's wand, the wax seal broke and the letter unfolded. It began reading loud enough for everyone to hear in a generic feminine voice.
"The Seven Matriarchs of the Veela Convent cordially return the greetings of Lord Gryffindor and invite him and his assembly (of no more than six individuals aside from himself) to join them for a formal discourse over the merits of alliance on the first day of December of the year 1997 at 11:00 in the morning local time.
Such an offer has never been a topic of deliberation between the Matriarchs and further considerations are to be afforded to aid in the development of an abiding and unambiguous response.
An acceptance or denial of our meeting terms may be delivered to the Matriarchs of the Veela Convent;Anticipating the Lord Gryffindor's response,
The Seven Matriarchs of the Veela Convent."
"Short and to the point," Dean noted. "I like it."
"Pretty fancy way of saying 'we'll hear you out but reserve the right to change our mind when we learn more' though, isn't it?" Seamus muttered.
"That…is much better than expected," Fleur admitted. "To host you in the halls of the convent shows they are willing to grant rudimentary trusts."
"That building does contain most of the European veela population," Marie Janice noted.
"Almost all of the full blooded veela, certainly," Fleur agreed.
"Lisa, can you draft an acceptance then get it to Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Absolutely," the girl agreed as she added another page to her journal and linked Hermione to it with an easy spell. She'd begin immediately.
"Who will we bring?"
"Fleur and I," Harry said. "That leaves five slots."
"It's probably best to only bring girls," Ron spoke up as he remembered the Quidditch world cup. "Aside from you, Harry."
"Good idea, mate," Roger Davies, a previous victim of Fleur's allure, agreed readily.
"Granger and Turpin," Zara added her input with pretty much everyone making some signal of agreement.
"I would like to join," Luna pitched in.
Harry only gave her a short look before nodding. She'd probably be a valuable asset.
"Two more," Harry counted.
"Lilian," Lisa called out to the far end of the table. "You in? We collaborated on a history paper on the veela once; you're well read."
"Very well," Lilian Moon agreed.
"I think maybe Susan should fill the last slot," Harry decided.
It was agreed easily enough.
"Lavender, can you get with one of the sewing-inclined elves to get six sets of crimson and gold themed robes? I think our DA uniforms can sit this one out."
"I can do that," the curly haired brunette agreed excitedly. "I've already got some designs I can recolor."
"Perfect," Harry agreed. "I'm going to let Hermione and whoever else get together and figure out the specifics of what we'll need to meet with the matriarchs. I want hardcopies of all of that once we have it that I can have in front of me during the meeting, please."
"You got it," Lisa agreed.
"Is anyone going to ask the obvious question?" Zara asked, looking around to many blank stares. There was exasperation in her dark blue eyes. "How are the seven of you going to get out of classes for this meeting?"
Everyone stopped and blinked as they consider her question. There was silence for a long moment. Finally, it was broken by an unexpected source.
"I have a solution to that," Lucas Masson spoke up.
"You do?" Harry asked with a raised brow.
"It's simple — you are not going to get out of classes. You're all going to go to your usual classes. Then, at lunch, you will come here and use my time turner to be when you have already been."
"You have a time turner?" Daphne asked with interest.
"I do," he agreed. "And I will not offer its frivolous use. It is for emergency's only and this seems suitable."
"Agreed," Harry nodded. "Now that that's taken care of, does anyone else have anything to add?"
As no's seemed to be the general consensus from everyone, Harry continued along his agenda for the meeting.
"Great, now we can move on to the little things. Let's talk about our squad work, guys, and our new squad assignments."
"New squad assignments?" Ginny asked with interest.
"We're going up from five squads to eight," Ron answered. "With the eighth being a second air squad lead by Oliver Wood."
"Our other new squad leaders are Lucas Masson with squad five and Marcus Theron on squad six," Hermione informed them.
"I'm going to call names and group you by squads starting with squad one," Harry instructed. "Lead by Neville Longbottom with healers Graham Romsey and Daphne Greengrass. Then we've got Ginny Weasley, Fay Dunbar, Tracey Davis, Leanne Kimmi, Morag Macdougal, Marie Janice, and Anthony Goldstein. Group up, you ten. Squad two…"
…
The following morning, Harry awoke an hour before sunrise as he usually did and headed to Firewall where he had a personal gym set up in his quarters.
After his physical exercises, he headed down to the larger gym where he found Brando, one of Masson's men, with a punching bag.
"Morning, Potter," the scruffy and wiry Boston native greeted, halting his repetitive boxing routine to wipe his forehead.
He was wearing a white tank top and grey sweats but Harry saw the weapons strapped to his waist and their outline along his thighs. Constant vigilance.
"Hey Brando," he greeted; he and this particular hit-wizard had only talked a couple times.
There was no speaking for the next twenty minutes as both men pushed their physical and magical endurances. Harry had activated the spell disk and was practicing his aim and accuracy while avoiding the paint-ball like projectiles.
After he'd deactivated all of them twice, he noticed Brando leaning against a nearby pillar observing. When the two met eyes, the older man started walking over.
"Care for a spar?"
"Sure," Harry agreed easily. "Let me grab a drink first."
"Not a bad idea."
The two headed over to the small table that constantly held a cool pitcher of water and cups. Harry poured them both one as they leaned against the wall.
"Any rules?" Harry asked.
"Judging by the way you were practicing, I'd say wands only today."
"Tally stinger spell?" the teen asked.
The spell allowed them to hit each other with stinging charms while simultaneously keeping track of how many times each of them had been hit.
"Alright. See how long we can last?"
"Or say — first to be hit 25 times loses?" Harry suggested.
"I get to hit you with a stinger 25 times?" Brando snorted. "This ought to be good."
"Careful," the teen warned with a wink as they headed towards the dueling area and took their places. "I hit back."
"Bring it on."
…
In retrospect, challenging a seasoned hit-wizard to hit him 25 times with a stinging charm wasn't his brightest idea.
After Brando had gone off in his own direction, Harry trekked back into the main entry hall so he could portkey back to Hogwarts. He technically could portkey out from anywhere in the castle but he preferred to use the receiving rooms on principle.
"Hey Harry," Harper Lee greeted as she hopped down the main staircase.
The teen was one of the DA's younger members, a fifth year, and known for being perilously energetic. It was the general consensus that you needed two cups of coffee before you were ready to keep up with Harper on a slow day.
"What's up, Harper?"
"Nothing much, came to grab my swimsuit. Forgot to pack it."
"Swimsuit? It's December."
"Yeah but Lavender put her 'finishing touches' on the hot springs in the Chamber of Secrets," the girl answered. "And they're apparently 'magical.'"
"Why do I feel like a lot more than I know of is happening in that Chamber?"
"Because you're entirely correct," Harper laughed.
"Share a portkey?" Harry asked as he held out his ring portkey.
"Sure," she chirped before looping her arm in his.
With a hook behind their navels, the two teens were dragged into a swirling vortex and deposited in the DA Cathedral in Hogwarts.
"But anyways," Harper picked back up. "Bunch of us are meeting there tonight after dinner for a swim. You'll hear about it today I'm sure."
"So it'll be a party then?" he clarified. He did have the Veela convent meeting tomorrow; he could use the chance to blow off some steam.
"Something like that."
"Hm, okay," Harry agreed. "I'll be there — and I'll bring something special for the drinks table."
"Oo la la, Harry, are we getting tipsy?"
"It's a school night," Harry said with a jokingly reproachful glare. "So maybe only a little."
The two teens laughed for a minute then began parting ways.
"I'm gonna go drop this suit off in my dorm," she said, gesticulating with the handful of crimson fabric.
"See you later tonight then," Harry waved. "I'm headed off to breakfast."
"You might consider healing those red marks on your forehead first."
"Bloody hell, Brando," Harry cursed as he rubbed the spot. Harper just laughed and walked away towards the main portrait hole nearest Gryffindor tower.
…
Once Harry had used a low level healing charm to get rid of the marks left by the stinging charms, he set off for breakfast where he found both Hermione and Ron, surprisingly, already there. The two were being shy and flushing more than seemed usual, stuttering out requests to pass food platters.
"Oh dear, they're in that stage," Lucy Hurst noted, brushing shoulders with the other teen who had come to a slow stop before his two self-absorbed friends noticed him.
"I think they'll grow out of it soon," Harry said. "Just glad to see they're finally doing something about it."
"What do you mean?"
Harry's face paled a little bit as he looked at the seventh year Gryffindor.
"You mean you, er, haven't heard?"
"What? Are they dating now?"
"Well no," Harry said hurriedly. "Don't tell anyone but they're going on their first date today."
Lucy let out a low squee but Harry quickly shushed her.
"Don't tell anyone," he repeated sternly.
"Or what, Potter?" she teased.
"Or, or-" he quickly cycled through any personal things he remembered about Lucy. "Or I'll make you our mer-people liaison."
"You wouldn't dare," she said, face quickly getting more serious. "I am not going into that bloody lake. And we don't even have one of those, do we?"
"I don't know," he said with a shrug. "But I guess you won't tell anyone then. At least until after they've left for Hogsmeade — everyone will know by the time they get back anyways."
"Too right you are," she agreed. "And you got yourself a deal. You coming to the party tonight?"
"Yeah, I'll be there."
"Invite the lovebirds then."
"Sure thing."
They separated and Harry went and took a seat between Ron and Seamus who both scooted over slightly.
"Hey mates," he greeted. "Morning Mione."
"Good morning, Harry," she greeted, looking away from Ron. "What did Lucy have to say this morning?"
"Just asking about the party tonight," he answered after casting a surreptitious privacy charm that all DA members were keyed into.
"Party?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, Lavender decided to throw one in the Chamber hot spring pool," Harry answered. "You two want to come? I'm going."
"Im afraid not," Hermione answered after a moment's thought. "The humidity would be terrible for my hair and I'm really not much of a swimmer."
"Count me out too," Ron said. Harry didn't bother asking why as he knew that his friend was probably more interested in spending one-on-one time with Hermione.
"I'll be there," Seamus said. "Maybe smuggle in some butterbeer."
"Don't worry about that," Harry waved off. "I'll take care of it."
"Wicked," the Irishman said with a grin.
"So, now that the fun stuff is out of the way," Harry began. "You ready for tomorrow, Hermione? They sent Fleur the portkey already so everything is arranged."
"I think so," she said, gesturing to the folder laid out in front of her.
Due to the privacy charms she was using even he couldn't tell what was written on the page but he recognized the folder as a copy of the convent meeting notes that Lisa had drawn up and distributed.
"I've gone over all the notes as many times as I can and I've refreshed my French greetings and veela cultural knowledge."
"I read what Lisa gave me," Harry said with a shrug.
"You should read my veela customs book tonight."
Harry accidentally let out a short sigh.
"Just the formalities chapter. It's short enough and I left notes," she assured him with a light eye roll.
"Alright, give it to me before Hogsmeade?"
She nodded while taking a bite of her breakfast.
"So what are you gonna do in the village mate?"
"I'm joining up with the Castle Security squad to guard the village. Gonna hang around the Three-Broomsticks and the market square, maybe read by the fountain. I'll have a copy of the map with me so I can keep an eye on who's in town."
"Gareth's gonna be in the Cathedral doing that as well," the redhead told him. "We're prepared if anything happens."
Harry nodded before finishing off his bacon, egg, and toast sandwich. "Alright; I'm gonna go talk to Lavender about tonight."
"See ya in the tower," Ron said while Hermione waved.
…
At three o'clock, Harry was having lunch by a window booth with a view of the street in the Three Broomsticks. Dean had come in from off the roof of one of the taller shops along market square and joined him to warm up his nose which he claimed was completely frozen (he'd only flushed a little more when Harry asked why he hadn't used a heating charm).
"Seen anything?" Dean asked quietly.
"Except for a Slytherin fourth year terrorizing a third year puff? Nope," Harry answered.
The two boys quieted when Rosmerta came bustling around the edge of the booth with an enchanted quill and notepad floating alongside her ready to take their orders.
"Can I get the house special, please?" Harry asked politely.
"Of course you can, Harry," she replied cheerily. "Sorry about the wait, quite the lunch rush. Can I get you a butterbeer with that?"
"Yes, please."
"I'll have the same."
"You got it, boys," she said, bustling off to the kitchen.
"I'm not gonna complain about a nice, quiet Hogsmeade weekend," the famous teen picked back up once the barmaid rushed off. "Especially with tomorrow's meeting."
"You look nervous," Dean said perceptively.
Harry scoffed and chuckled. "Wouldn't you be?"
"Please, I'm not even going and I'm nervous."
"I just have this feeling like they're only meeting with us because we had the message delivered by family, you know? Like they're not really interested."
"They have to be interested. Sounds like they're in some kind of trouble, doesn't it? Running out of money and room for everyone would make me interested in some help."
"I guess so," Harry agreed before casting a much stronger privacy charm. "Honestly, I think I'm more worried about their pride."
"Pride?"
"I'm pretty sure veela keep the hate for the British alive more than any of the other Frenchman," he continued. "And line one of our offer is 'come move to Britain.' What if the first thing we say is the deal breaker?"
"Then don't let that be the first thing you say," Dean shrugged. "Their families and safety should be the first thing you start talking about. The exact location they're moving to isn't as important as that."
"Yeah," Harry agreed as he looked out of the window. "Just not sure what to say if they ask why they should move closer to the war."
"Because behind a Fidelius, we could be in Voldie's pocket and he wouldn't know."
Harry snorted at the visual and gave his roommate an incredulous look.
"Not that that's what you should say to the veela," Dean continued. "But he does know exactly where they are because it's not a secret. Yet he's always been hunting you and he's never found you or found us."
The brunette nodded. "Thanks, Dean. Think I'm just overcomplicating things."
"I don't know mate, this is pretty complicated no matter which way you spin it."
Harry felt his privacy ward fall away as Madam Rosmerta stepped through it. From the slight shudder and the odd look she gave the two of them, she had probably felt it.
"Drinks and the appetizer specials for you boys," she said as she bent down and set two small cast-iron serving dishes filled with potatoes and cheese in front of them followed by two bottles of butterbeer. "Your meals will be out in just a couple of minutes."
"Thank you, ma'am," they said respectfully.
Any DA related conversation died out after that as they elected not to raise more privacy charms.
The two friends enjoyed their meal together as they seemingly chatted about classes without a care in the world. They were more alert than they let on, however, as they kept a careful eye on the goings on of the picturesque village outside of the window.
…
When Harry returned from the village with one of the last groups of returning students he found Ron and Hermione waiting for him by the Grand Staircase. He noticed with a small smile that the two were standing very close together and Hermione had a small purple flower spelled to her chest.
"Hey you two."
"Hey Harry," Hermione returned.
"How was the village?" he asked.
"It was great," Ron answered cooly. "You should check it out on the next weekend; one of the cottages has a mini-replica of Hogwarts all lit up already."
"And apparently the neighborhood kids have been converting an empty field into a standing snow-man army," Hermione pitched in. "They've got about twenty now."
"Impressive," he responded as they began climbing the stairs back towards the tower.
"So, you still going tonight?" Hermione asked after casting a look around them.
"Yeah — sure you two don't want to join?"
"Yeah, we're sure mate," Ron answered. "We're going to the tower to change clothes then go grab dinner together."
Hermione blushed slightly as he shared information about their date but didn't seem uncomfortable. It was just a new feeling and a new kind of openness.
"That sounds like fun," Harry said knowingly.
"Ron actually has some sort of surprise prepared," she told him. After noting the lack of surprise on his face, she gave him a penetrating look. "What do you know about it, Harry?"
"Me? Nothing."
"You're a rotten liar."
"But I'm quite good at keeping secrets," he winked before stopping momentarily by the portrait hole as Ron talked to the Fat Lady and gave her the password. "Anyways, gotta be off; I've some things to arrange for this get together. Have fun tonight! Ta."
The messy-haired teen spun off before she could respond and chuckled to himself as he took another set of stairs up towards the Cathedral.
When Ron had asked him for advice, he'd instead given Ron an idea for dinner after their Hogsmeade trip. His friend had been quite surprised.
"You want me to take her where?"
"You heard me; the third floor corridor from first year."
"You mean the nonsense maze of rooms hidden under a trapdoor in a dusty old classroom?"
"Yes, Ron," Harry said with an eye roll. "Think about it; you want to make your first date important, right? What are some important moments in your friendship? The troll? Yes, but no. One, that's not a particularly good one."
"And two, I'm not gonna take her to the bloody loo on our first date."
"Exactly," Harry nodded. "So, third floor corridor. All the traps are gone, I checked ages ago. All you need is a broom or a spell to get into the devil's snare room. The plants are gone so it's just a long fall."
"Hermione hates brooms."
"But if you only bring one broom, you can ride with her and take it nice and slow."
"Like when we went to the lighthouse," he remembered. "Alright Harry, I like where this is going. Go on."
"That's actually all I've got for you," he shrugged. "Except that you should put something different in each room."
"Huh?"
"Well there's six rooms aside from Fluffy's classroom, right? So each room should have something different in it and the last room you go in should be where you have dinner."
"Six rooms of different things? What bloody things?"
"Oh, hell," Harry rolled his eyes. "Why did I suggest this on short notice?"
"Come on Harry, help me," his redhead friend asked with imploring eyes. "I want to make this special for Hermione."
"Alright, alright. Let's go plan this out. I'm gonna need some parchment."
In the end, it was pretty easy.
With a lot of help from Dobby, they romantically redecorated and cleaned the underground chambers. Harry was pretty sure they'd used more than a thousand candles with floating enchantments. Ron even decided to leave a bouquet of her favorite flowers that she could take back to her room after their date was over on a table in the center of one of the first rooms.
"How do you know her favorite flowers are violas and lilies?" Harry asked while giving Ron a confused and mildly impressed look.
"Don't look at me like that," the ginger defended. "I asked her mum, that's all."
"Mate that's…genius."
"Anyways, we'll set up the chess room like a sitting room where we can have hot coco. The troll room should be turned into a bathroom so Hermione doesn't have to walk that far to a loo—"
"A bathroom on your date?" Harry asked. "I thought you said you didn't want to take her to the loo."
"We still have bladders and I bet neither of us wants to hike to the loo."
"Fair enough," Harry agreed with a shrug. "You did good coming up with all these ideas."
"With almost no help from you."
"It'll mean more to Hermione if these are your ideas," he said with another shrug. "Plus, I can help with the legwork or the brain work but not both. That's the deal. And I've already done most of the legwork, so, you made your choice."
Ron rolled his eyes then continued explaining. "Anyways, the sixth room will be for dessert and the mirror room will be for dinner. That way we can walk out of dinner, into dessert, then back out towards the entrance."
"Good idea," Harry agreed easily with a smile. He wasn't going to argue and Ron's logic about the dessert room coming before the dinner room made an odd kind of sense anyways if you thought about it backwards. "I think she'll love it."
And Harry was right.
She ended up loving the almost story-book perfect first date with the young man she'd become quite taken with as they'd grown up together. She'd have to remember to thank Harry for giving Ron a poke in the right direction with dating advice.