Harry Potter: Dark Lord Slayer

I don’t own anything related to the Harry Potter franchise
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Harry Potter: Dark Lord Slayer - Chapter 1 - Reunions and Realities
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A powerful moment of silence descended upon the Magical Council of Britain, its members staring down at the French diplomat kneeling in the middle of their council chamber, because no one could even believe what they were currently looking at. The man in front of them, Lord Anton DuBois, had a knee pressed firmly to the floor with his head lowered submissively, but even more surprising than his current posture was the look of abject surrender upon his face. This was not the behavior of a man representing one of the most powerful magical nations in the whole entire world. This was not the behavior of a well-groomed, well-respected, well renowned French Lord. This was an act of desperation pure and simple, and not even the most cutthroat opportunist residing within the Council chamber knew what to make of it.

“Dark Lord Bastien is growing in both power and influence with every single day that passes,” Anton growled out as he slammed his fist down into the marble floor. “It may seem inconceivable to you, but while Bastien is a highly prolific serial killer, he has a powerful charisma that is drawing in followers from all walks of life. What’s worse is what he does with our failed attempts to subdue him. He uses our Aurors’ failed raids and attacks as proof positive that we’re a totalitarian regime aiming for perfect control of the masses. He claims he’s merely a freedom fighter trying to bring an end to the French government’s fascist regime! His power base in Paris grows so quickly, by the end of the month, they won’t even be in the minority anymore. I am not being sensationalist right now! The French government needs your help before we are destroyed by our own population!”

“Is Bastien an extremely skilled Leglimancer then?” At this point, Lord Neville Longbottom had both of his elbows resting upon his desk as he stared down at the French diplomat. “By that, I mean, is Bastien using the Emperio curse en masse or asserting some form of control over the minds of his followers?”

“He’s definitely asserting control, but the method that he’s using isn’t fully understood,” Anton explained while looking at the floor. “No one knew of this until recently, but Bastien is actually an exceedingly rare variety of male Veela. His particular species hasn’t been seen since the great culling took place several hundred years ago, and in fact, his race is the primary reason why the wizards of old committed so many atrocities against Veela in the first place. According to our sources, that event, the culling, is the primary reason why Bastien has such a deep seeded resentment for the government. He calls out our crimes in public squares as if they happened yesterday rather than 450 years ago, and the people listen, completely enraptured with his every word. The strength of his charisma is such that gender and sexual preference hardly matter. His allure is so unbelievably powerful, he renders those around him drooling admirers or fawning sycophants within just a few moment’s time.”

The wizarding community of France are no strangers to Veela and their allure,” Madam Susan Bones suddenly interjected in a speculative tone of voice. “Am I to believe that no one at all has been able to resist this man’s aura-based powers?”

“No Madam Bones, there have been several people with the tolerance and tools required to defy him,” Anton replied with a small sad shake of his head. “Nearly a hundred men and women have died in service to their country while attempting to take down this monster, because he’s become the breed of Dark Lord that was invented in Britain. He’s adopted every method in Tom Riddle’s memoirs, including the man’s speed, strength and magic bolstering rituals, the sacrifices that he performed and the Horcruxes that he managed to create. To this day, we have no idea where all of Bastien’s Horcruxes are, which means that the man needs to be caught alive and then suppressed using magical devices…”

Unfortunately for Lord Longbottom, Neville already knew exactly where their current conversation was heading, which is why a subtle look of long suffering was beginning to peek out from behind his carefully stoic expression. It was this feeling of frustration that forced him to draw in a very deep breath before he finally responded. It wouldn’t be… politic to be rude to a foreign dignitary just because the man was about to make his life difficult.

Still...

Neville thought he might try to steer their current situation in a different direction... “I’m beginning to understand the scope of your troubles Anton,” he began in an empathetic tone of voice. “What I don’t understand yet is what nature of support you want from the Council of Magical Britain. Do you want us to send over a troop of Warmages to protect the public and a team of our Unspeakables to look for the Horcruxes?”

“What? Well, yes of course, but that’s not specifically what I’m asking for,” Anton spluttered out in his surprise.”

“I’m confused then,” Neville responded in a studiously calm tone of voice. “I just offered you everything that I have the authority to offer you, after all... I have several teams of highly trained soldiers that I can send to France as early as this evening, and I have dozens of government agents that can escort you home when you leave.”

“If all France needed was a few war mages then I wouldn’t be on bended knee right now,” Anton responded in an indignant tone of voice. “Everyone in this room knows exactly why I’m here…”

“That may be the case, but this isn’t the first time this Council has been petitioned like this,” Neville responded, completely giving up on stoicism and pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ve been through this not once, not twice, but four other times in just the past five years, and it’s becoming more of an issue with every repetition. Let me make this next part very, very clear for you, Lord DuBois. The Magical Council of Britain does not have the authority to just draft one of our citizens into a foreign conflict, let alone a Noble and Most Ancient Lord..”

“But... but… You’re old friends with the man,” DuBois began in an alarmed tone of voice. “You could…”

“Demand… nicely, that Lord Potter tear his way through an army of brainwashed foot soldiers in order to fight at a disadvantage against yet another preternaturally powerful and twisted, pseudo-immortal dark wizard,” Neville offered in a noticeably sardonic tone of voice.

DuBois clearly didn’t know how to respond to that. There was no way of doing so without sounding completely ridiculous. Drawing in a deep breath to calm his body, he slowly drew his knee off of the floor and rose back to his feet. “I... I understand. I only ask that someone from my office be given the opportunity to speak face to face with the man…”

“Done,” Neville instantly agreed. “I’ll make the arrangements and get back to you within the next hour.”

“So easy,” Anton accidentally muttered out loud.

“Easy, no,” Neville immediately corrected. “The difference is that you’re no longer asking for the impossible…”

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Hundreds of Kilometers away, in an expansive but cozy wood paneled room, a little over fifty miscellaneous magical contraptions and mundane tools hung around on their own little pegs, hooks and cradles, everything in its place, everything well-respected. The room was quite obviously a well-used work-space for a very well organized wizard craftsman, but there was one thing that made it stand out as distinctly out of the ordinary. In the corner of the room, close to a busy looking chalk-board, was a battery powered CD/radio boombox, complete with a speaker setup. Even more out of the ordinary than the radio’s presence however, was the fact that it was turned on and playing a punk rock song throughout the room.

Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner~
Sometimes I feel like my only friend~
Is the city I live in, the city of angels~
Lonely as I am, together we cry~
I drive on her streets 'cause she's my companion~
I walk through her hills 'cause she knows who I am~
She sees my good deeds and she kisses me windy~
Well, I never worry, now that is a lie~

It was a well established fact throughout the entire wizarding world that any electrical appliance brought into a magical setting will almost immediately begin malfunctioning before catching fire or melting into scrap metal. The fact that this radio was working just fine in the middle of an intensely magical environment was... astounding. Too bad nobody knew that this remarkable little boombox even existed. The inventor of this radio had seen firsthand how corrupt and violent wizard-kind can be, and he knew right away that if he gave the magical world the ability to use electrical appliances, they’d end up building nuclear weapons within just one or perhaps two years’ time... Nope. Hard pass. There was no chance in hell he was going to get involved in that particular clusterfuck…

Harry Potter knew better than that…

Across the room, sprawled out across the length of an old but intensely comfortable leather couch, a tall and somewhat unkept black-haired man quietly snored in a slow counterpoint to the fast paced music. Despite the four o’clock shadow growing on his face and the casual t-shirt jeans combo he was wearing, the man radiated a kind of latent potential that was palpable enough to be nearly physical. The man pulsed. He vibrated. As still and relaxed as he was in his nap, looking at the man was like staring at a bomb primed to blow and then just left to sit on a shelf. It felt unnatural...

Bong, bong, bong!

The Floo call alert chime echoed around the entire workroom in a way that was intensely annoying and extremely effective at exactly the same time.

With no intermediary step, Harry Potter bounced up off the couch as if he’d been electrocuted and was whipping his attention all around the room even before his feet returned to the ground. He’d been attacked in his sleep far more often than he wanted to admit, which unfortunately meant that his overreaction wasn’t all that ridiculous. Still... The chances of him being attacked in the basement workroom of the extremely secret ‘Potter Lair number seven’ were exceedingly slim. No matter. The fact that Harry was receiving a Floo call at all was startling enough. There was an extremely short list of people that had access to this Floo address, and they rarely contacted him when he was working on something.

Nowadays, Harry was dabbling at being an eccentric but ingenious philanthropist inventor. He was trying to emulate his favorite comic book hero Tony Stark, with the exception that he only wanted to mass produce products that couldn’t be used for nefarious purposes, and it was quite a bit harder than he‘d thought it would be...

Every single time Harry thought he had the perfect idea, he ended up creating something so completely revolutionary it would change the entire wizarding world within the flames of industrial revolution... Ugh... One thing that Harry did know for certain, was that his days spent being a long-suffering and tragic hero were finally behind him. Yeah!... This time for sure!... And at the tail end of that thought, Harry suddenly felt an intense desire to avoid responding to the Floo call that he was receiving. His reticence had a lot to do with the fact that there was a particularly disgusting breed of Dark Lord growing into prominence down in France.

Naw... Neville knew better than that... They’d discussed this.

Damn.

With a sigh, Harry moved over towards the Floo fireplace and pressed his hand against a rune covered brick. “Harry speaking.”

“I didn’t promise that you’d destroy Dark Lord Bastien,” Neville belted out as soon as a fiery version of his face materialized within the fireplace.

“Uhhh, well, okay then,” Harry haltingly replied as he stared down at one of his oldest friends. “What did you promise then?” Harry knew for a fact that there was something that he needed to do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be receiving a call at his most secret of lairs.

“I promised that you’d meet with one of the French dignitary’s people.” Neville replied with a shrug. “I figured it was someone else’s turn to be the bad guy.”

“I wonder what poor sap they’ve sent to convince me,” Harry mused out loud with an amused grin upon his face. “There’s no chance in hell I’m getting myself involved this time, Neville. I’m trying my hardest to be a boring and conventional inventor just like we talked about. In fact, just the other day, one of my inventions accidentally sent me into the fourth-dimension. It was all wibbly-wobbly and timey wimey and stuff just like the Dr. Who line, and I’m pretty sure I saw myself as an embryo.”

“It’s when you say bizarre things like that and mean every single word of it literally that you become truly frightening,” Neville responded with a small understanding nod. Having spent most of his formative years in the same dorm as Harry, Neville knew that the green-eyed wizard was harmless. Both he and Councillor Bones played up the whole scary Lord Potter thing big time within their Council sessions, but that was mostly so that Harry didn’t end up fighting every single Dark Lord that the world had to offer.

So far, their plan wasn’t working… like, at all…

“When and where,” Harry inquired, as he began rummaging through a large wardrobe closet. “I hope this meeting is a business casual arrangement, because I haven’t bought new dress robes since I stepped out of the public eye.”

“Wear whatever the hell you want, Harry,” Neville replied with a small scoff and a wave. “You’re Harry Potter for Gods’ sakes. You have more aliases, monikers and catchy hyphenated hero names than I have plants in my greenhouse.”

Harry didn’t bother responding to Neville’s words because he didn’t want to get involved in that particular conversation. He wasn’t such a huge fan of the whole Boy-Who Lived, Man-Who-Triumphed, derivatives, or the many catchy aliases that he’d collected over the years. He was even less a fan of the stories people told each other regarding his many heroic exploits. No one was ever present during the times that he actually ended up fighting the most recent Dark Lord, mostly because they’d inevitably end up dead if they were. For that reason, no one actually knew how close a thing his duels actually were, or the roughed-up state of his body after-the-fact. No. All they knew was that he managed to survive, and the Dark Lord in question was either magically restrained or dead. That was all they wanted to understand about the Situation, because by Merlinizing Harry in the extreme, they felt safer when they went to bed at night.

As a result of his actions and the completely absurd way that the wizarding world tended to react, Harry was very, very… very famous. His level of fame could be compared to that of Tom Hanks, Robert De Niro, Tom Cruise and Denzel Washington combined, which meant it was quite a bit more than just a pain in the ass.

It was actually the extreme nature of Harry’s fame that led him to pioneering a brand-new skill for himself at great cost of time and magical effort. Over the last five years, he managed to become what he liked to call a learned Metamorph. While he wasn’t a natural born Metamorphmagus like the late Ms. Tonks, through sheer force of will, an ungodly amount of magic and an extreme aversion for the taste of Polyjuice Potion, Harry taught himself how to recreate a lot of a Metamorph’s transformative abilities.

With one or two hangups that he was still ironing out.

While Harry could change his appearance just like Tonk’s could, it usually took him about twenty seconds to fully change his appearance, and it continuously sapped a hefty chunk of his total magical capacity, which made the ability a little costly as an espionage skill. Still, the skill was definitely a game changer when he wanted to go buy a carton of eggs unmolested by a mob of star struck witches.

And things were getting easier by the day.

More recently, the world was beginning to see Harry Potter as an extremely reclusive and mercurial type of person, when in reality he spent quite a bit of time walking among them completely unnoticed. With just a few alterations to his physique, hair color and skin tone, he could go down to the local pub and read about the Quidditch match just like anyone else. It did have the side effect of forcing him to keep his casual acquaintances at a safe distance, but that was fine because he still had a few solid and meaningful friendships from his time back in school.

“To answer your question,” Neville continued into the newly silent room. “The venue will be in the back boardroom of the Three Broomsticks in about half an hour. The secret password that Rosy will expect to hear from you is caterpillar onions, since I’m assuming you’re going to go in disguise.”

When Harry removed his face from within his wardrobe he already had muddy brown hair, a large and round nose, dull brown eyes and a set of freckles that would put a Weasley to shame. Soon enough, the two of them were both laughing because Harry was getting pretty good at comedic timing.

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” Neville added with a small shake of his head. “Why do you always insist on using such plain looking faces when you can look like literally anyone?”

“Ugly is common and forgettable,” Harry offered with a shrug. “Besides, I don’t want to receive attention from the wrong kind of woman for the wrong kind of reason.”

Neville knew for a fact that Harry was mostly referring to his unfaithful ex-girlfriend Ginny and her user brother Ron. Both Ginny and her brother had exploited their relationship with Harry for the fame and fortune that it offered, but as it turns out, Ginevra Weasley had been a rare variety of both slutty and ambitious. Nowadays, Harry considered himself damaged goods in the ‘trusting others’ category, and Neville had a hard time blaming him.

“I suppose I better get going if I’m to be on time to this blind date of yours.” By this point, Harry was wearing a spotless white polo shirt and a well tailored pair of black slacks. He may not want to look attractive, but there was no reason to be disrespectful.

“Okay,” Neville finally offered in an offhand manner. “Just so you know, the French dignitary I spoke to was a fifty-year-old man, so I wouldn’t expect an attractive woman.”

“That just makes what I’m about to do all the easier,” Harry offered in return. Without another word, the young man abruptly spun on his right heel and disappeared from the room with a cheerful little pop.

“Yeah sure… easy.” Neville shook his head. Unfortunately for Harry, the only person the man was fooling was himself.

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It was always interesting to come back to Hogsmeade and see Hogwarts off in the distance, reconstructed to nearly perfect condition. Not much had changed in the time since Harry was a student, and yet the school seemed quite a bit smaller and less substantial than in his memories. Everything that had happened during his time residing within those walls had felt so enormous, so momentous. Now all of those events were just footnotes in a far longer and more violent series of unfortunate events.

Without a doubt, Tom Riddle, AKA Voldemort, was still among the most dangerous people that Harry ever fought against. The difference now was that in just five years’ time, four other wizards had stepped forward to follow directly in the man’s footsteps. Using the same rituals, the same human sacrifices, and the same complete disregard for the health of their immortal soul, these dark wizards managed to attain power levels that left the world’s Auror Services shaking in their boots.

As it turns out, Tommy boy wrote down some very detailed notes during his initial rise to power, and not long after he was finally destroyed, one of his surviving followers distributed them all to the rest of the dark wizard community.

Nowadays, having a dark wizard attain monstrous strength through ritualistic torture and then create one or two Horcruxes for him/herself was becoming more and more common. The world was experiencing a veritable dark magic renaissance, and until now, Harry’s life was derailed on a regular basis…

Well... No longer... Harry didn’t want to be a lone defender anymore. He didn’t want to be the meat shield that the rest of the world hid behind. He wanted a life, a real one, with all of the mundane trimmings... With that idea in mind, Harry marched into The Three Broomsticks prepared to scare the living hell out of whatever diplomat or dignitary the French government arranged for him to meet. Moving briskly through the bustling common room of the tavern, he whispered the secret password (caterpillar onions) to a newly open-mouthed Madam Rosmerta, and then he marched into the privacy of the back room like a five star General.

Then he froze in place. A mixture of shock and surprise having robbed him of his previous momentum.

Fleur Delacour.

Shit!

With a small feigned look of embarrassment, Harry immediately bowed in apology, muttered a quick, “wrong room,” and then turned around to walk away.

“‘Arry... stop.”

And Harry froze in his tracks, as his only hope had been that Fleur didn’t recognize who he was, but it was clear that such wasn’t the case. Now, there was only one thing to ask. “How’d you know?”

“You feel like ‘Arry, only a ‘undred times more-so zan I remember,” Fleur explained in a calm and cool tone of voice. “Eet ees as eef an explosion of ‘Arry ees filling zis whole entire room…”

With a heavy sigh, Harry turned in place and looked back at the woman. “Right. Half Veela. Aura based powers are your specialty. You would be an excellent sensor.”

“Oui, yes,” Fleur confirmed with a small nod of her head. “Eef you want, I can teach you ‘ow to better contain your magic. Anyone wiz any skill at aura detection can feel you coming for miles.”

“Which is a problem because you want me to subdue this Veela boogieman of yours,” Harry finished in what he hoped was an equally cool and unemotional tone of voice. Then, all of the sudden, along with an indrawn breath, all of the magic that he was releasing into the room was drawn back into his body.

As Harry’s magic was pulled out of the surrounding air to flow back into his body, Fleur swayed forward and then slumped just a bit in her chair. A moment later, when she regained her bearings, she arched an eyebrow at the man in front of her. “Eef you could do zis all along, zan why weren’t you?”

“What I’m doing right now actually feels like work,” Harry admitted with a small shrug of his shoulders. “My magic has become unruly. It does what it wants and is hard to reign in for extended periods of time.” As he spoke, Harry started allowing his features to slip back towards their baseline normal. His jet black hair, lightly tanned skin, green eyes and faded lightning scar slowly revealed themselves, even as he grew several inches in height and assorted muscle mass. By the time he sat down across the table from Fleur, his transformation was nearly complete and he looked far more comfortable in the body type that he was wearing.

“I ‘ad thought you were using Polyjuice,” Fleur choked out, her voice filled with unfeigned surprise.

“I’m not, and no, I’m not an Metamorphmagus either,” Harry offered in a quiet voice. “What I just did took me years of daily practice to learn, and it still requires a substantial amount of effort on my part.”

“I… I see.” Fleur’s face scrunched up into just the tiniest of frowns before she shook her head and fixed her composure.

As Fleur sat further back in her chair to adjust her already perfect posture, her tight blue cocktail dress offset her sapphire eyes in a way that was calculated to impress. Harry would’ve winced if the woman weren’t carefully observing his every move. Fleur was a vision, just like he remembered. She was five-foot-eleven inches of perfect curves, smooth sunkissed skin, and shiny platinum blonde hair that seemed to go on forever… She was both the carrot and the stick. She was a tactical nuke of both overwhelming charm and bittersweet nostalgia. Harry immediately resented the French government for hitting him where it hurts. “It’s been a while,” he finally offered, and as superficial as the statement sounded, it was also the truth.

“Oui, yes, just over three years now,” Fleur replied, with her eyes tracking up and left in remembrance. “Ze way events transpired zat day were... unfortunate, but I zink both you and I are much better off.”

While Harry wouldn’t go so far as to say that he disagreed, he did think Fleur’s methods left a lot to be desired… They were a little too Machiavellian. A little too… French.

About three years earlier, during the time that Harry was still engaged to Ginny, and Fleur was still engaged to Bill, an odd kind of adoption suddenly took place. At some point after they finally became truly comfortable around each other, Gabrielle and Fleur suddenly decided that Harry was family, and they persistently treated him as such from that point forward. Fleur took on the role of haughty and superior elder sister and Gabrielle the adorable fun loving younger sister. It was a good thing that the girls were there to offer so much support too, because Ginny spent a lot of time on the road with her professional Quidditch team the Holyhead Harpies, and Harry had a lot to figure out…

After the final defeat of Voldemort, Harry experienced a crisis of identity of sorts. He’d always thought that he’d be an Auror or maybe even a Quidditch Seeker. The problem with being an Auror was that he’d long since grown tired of conflict, and as it turns out, he wasn’t actually eligible to play as a Seeker. At some point just before Harry graduated Hogwarts, some unknown person ended up leaking the fact that he was capable of casting silent and wandless magic. According to the International Quidditch League rules, that skillset bars him from taking part in any official matches. According to the rule books, Harry wasn’t allowed to play because there was no reliable way of keeping him from cheating.

Suffice it to say, when Harry first heard about his disqualification, he laughed so hard tears pooled in his eyes, because the one and only time a Quidditch official was determined to adhere to the rules, was when it was being used to screw him over… No matter.

With a void left where his future aspirations used to be, Harry hit the books until he found out where his other talents lay. The first Mastery that Harry earned was in Charms, followed half a year later by Potions and then Runes another eight months after that. For a while, it seemed like Harry would be a career student, since he had the Galleons to spend on the most world renowned tutors in any subject and no specific direction that he actually wanted to head in. Thankfully for Harry, Fleur was extremely supportive during this time, as she was a triple Mastery herself and refused to settle into a career she didn’t love. Young Gabrielle was just supportive period. She was, and most likely still is, a sweetheart who never fails to make those around her smile…

Unfortunately for Harry, it was also during this time that Gedeon McAndrews, a small-time English Lord with a very Slytherin outlook upon the world, began using Tom Riddle’s notes to rapidly grow in magical power. By the time the authorities finally figured out what the man was up to, it was far too late. McAndrews was already three Horcruxes deep, had about ten times the magical capacity a mature wizard should hope to have, and was capable of casting Avada Kedavra spells at the speed of machine gun fire. The days where Harry could focus his entire attention on self-improvement were about to come to an end...

“You always get zat look when you remember some-zing zat upsets you,” Fleur suddenly pointed out, interrupting Harry’s thoughts. “Your eyes go ‘alf lidded, and your chin drops about two eenches towards your chest. ‘Eet surprised me when I saw zat you don’t wear glasses anymore, but your mannerisms are ze same as ever. You are upset wiz my actions zat day, but eet appears you also understand zem.”

Very suddenly, Harry remembered that some magical creatures don’t require Occlumency to get a pretty good read on other peoples’ emotions. Fleur’s magical heritage was one of those, and she wasn’t afraid to make use of it. “Yes,” Harry finally admitted after a few more quiet moments passed. “Yes I was… I am upset, because of those memories. I understand what you did, but the methods you used, their timing, and the fallout that they caused…”

“Do you miss ‘er? Ginny I mean.” Fleur looked like she already knew the answer to her question.

“What, no, of course not,” Harry replied while waving his hands in front of his chest. “Among several other things, she cheated on me while I was fighting for my life...”

“So you’re not un-’appy zat I revealed ‘er… eendiscretions,” Fleur continued, when Harry’s words petered off.

“Don’t give me that, Fleur,” Harry groaned out while rubbing at his temples. “You slipped a Veritaserum truth agent into Ginny’s eggnog during Christmas dinner and then cross examined her in front of me, Hermione, Gabrielle, and the rest of the Weasley family. You forced me to listen to every sordid affair and elicit sexual act that Ginny ever performed to attain that Harpy’s Captain spot. You petrified Molly, Ron and Bill when they tried to stop your questions, and then you Apparated away with Gabrielle to Gods only know where, never to be seen again.”

“Using Veritaserum ees a crime,” Fleur explained in a completely calm and neutral tone of voice. “I needed to leave ze country until I found out whezzer or not zey were going to contact ze authorities.”

“You know very well they couldn’t have done that,” Harry immediately pointed out. “That would’ve meant revealing all of Ginny’s transgressions in a court of law.”

“I also just wanted out,” Fleur admitted with a shrug. “Bill, Molly, Ginevra, Ronald... None of zem, including Bill, respected me for any-zing beyond my sex-appeal and family connections. Wiz ze exception of ‘Ermione, George and ze absent Charlie, all of ze people een ze Weasley family were trying to use us to climb ze social ladder. Zey saw ze both of us as pawns.”

For several seconds, both Harry and Fleur just sat there staring at each other. Fleur was right, so there was nothing else to say.

“So fill me in then,” Harry suddenly requested, mostly to fill the silence. “What have you and Gabby been up to?”

“I ‘ave been training een an exciting new career while courting a much better quality man, and Gabby only just graduated from Beauxbatons a few months ago.” Fleur paused to take a sip from a glass of water before waving her hand dramatically in Harry’s direction. “Of course, I already know what you’ve been up to…”

“No… No you don’t. You don’t have the foggiest clue,” Harry corrected, this time failing to keep a hint of accusation from entering his voice. “You never sought me out after that day, and you never wrote… You disappeared.”

“You never tried to reach me eizer,” Fleur immediately responded, splaying her hands out on the table. “Gabrielle and I ended up moving back eento ze Veela enclave to get away from zat blow-‘ard Bill when ‘ee refused to see reason and kept showing up at my ‘ome. Eet was only after I finally crushed ze man eento a fine paste zat I attempted to contact you at ze Potter Estate. You weren’t zere. No one was... Sadly, Een my folly, I came to ze conclusion zat you resented me and were rejecting my calls. While I did finally learn of your relocation several months later, I was much too late and you were already leaving for Bulgaria… You never really returned ‘ome after zat. you never truly reentered society…”

“I’ve been too busy fighting every dickhead the world has to offer,” Harry retorted in a frustrated tone of voice. “Look, the only reason I didn’t immediately try to contact you girls was because I was too busy moving to a new house, helping Hermione with her newborn and trying to nurse my damaged self-esteem. When I did reemerge back into society, it was to evict Ginny from the Potter estate, because surprise surprise, she straight up refused to leave. For the three months following that, I was trying to sort out Hermione’s child custody battle with Ronald, because Magical Britain’s laws on the matter are archaic. Of course, as soon as those things were taken care of, I was forced to intercede in Bulgaria when Karkaroff fashioned himself the next Dark Lord of Southern Europe.”

With a sigh, Harry leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. “By the end of the year, I’d become the high priority target in the eyes of the dark wizard community, and being around my friends was becoming an excellent way of putting them in danger. You and Gabby were doing well in France every time that I checked, and I figured that was for the best.”

“While I understand both your actions and your ‘esitation towards seeking us out, what I don’t understand ees why Ginevra’s actions ‘ad any affect on your self-esteem…” At this point Fleur had her head tilted to the side in confusion. “You ‘eard Ginny’s motives when I questioned ‘er zat day. She treated the act of sex like a business transaction. She wasn’t unsatisfied wiz you, not at all. She just didn’t give a damn about your feelings.”

“That’s a very rational and reasonable way of looking at it, Fleur…” Harry shook his head and looked down at the table. He didn’t want to be the guy to explain to Fleur what rejection feels like. Judging by the way she’d spent the last couple of years courting a ‘much better quality man’, the woman had clearly never felt that particular emotion…

“Dear Gods, ‘Arry… Please tell me you ‘aven’t been avoiding women all zis time. Please tell me you’re smarter zan zat.” Fleur suddenly looked alarmed as if Harry might be crazy.

Harry couldn’t help the small amused smile that grew on his face at Fleur’s sudden look of concern. “No. I’m not that far gone… Not long after Ginny and I broke up, my Metamorph-esque abilities finally started manifesting themselves. Nowadays, I have several alter egos that I use to pursue casual relationships, if and when I need them. Harry Potter is too high maintenance, so I never go out wearing this face...”

“Oh zank ze Goddesses. Ze man ‘as some sense,” Fleur breathed out as she leaned back in her chair.

“You approve of me sleeping around with women that I barely know and have no intention of taking seriously?” Harry shouldn’t have been surprised by Fleur’s French sensibilities, but he was, and the feeling amused him.

“I am Veela, ‘Arry,” Fleur replied, as if those three words were an entire novel’s worth of explanations. Then again, Harry supposed they actually were. While on the lookout for their eventual spouses, Veela just don’t do lonely. It isn’t in their makeup.

Harry nodded his head before rising to his feet. Without a word, he walked towards the door just in time to hear a soft knocking coming from the other side.

“A.. A variety of f..foods have been prepared f..for your enjoyment,” Madam Rosmerta squeaked out when Harry cracked open the door.

“Thank you Rosy. Feel free to bring the food in whenever you’re ready.” Harry attempted to smile reassuringly at the woman, because at one point the two of them had been quite friendly with each other.

No dice. It wasn’t working. The woman seemed to wobble like a baby deer as she turned around and walked away.

“I’m pretty sure she’s frightened of me,” Harry mused, as he turned back towards the table and sat back down.

“Fear yes, awe as well, not a small amount of lust,” Fleur listed off with a small, amused, shake of her head. “That woman’s body doesn’t know ‘ow to react to you.”

“That body reading ability of yours must be very useful to you as a government agent,” Harry threw out while studying Fleur to catch her reaction.

“You got eet een one ‘Arry, very eempressive.” Fleur’s face remained placid and unruffled despite the fact that Harry had just outed her as a French Unmentionable. She clearly wasn’t here to play games or keep secrets.

“I have a wealth of experience dealing with people in your line of work,” Harry drawled out in a frustrated tone of voice. “Please help us or we’ll make you help us… is the kind of attitude that I’ve learned to expect. I resent the fact that your government is making you take that role in my life.”

“I asked to be ze one,” Fleur revealed with a small shrug of her right shoulder. “I love my country. I also despise what Bastien ees doing and ‘ow eet’s reflecting on ze Veela community.”

“What number of Dark Lords will I be forced to fend off before I finally catch a killing curse?” Harry stared Fleur in the eyes as he asked that question. They may have been very close at one point, but if her answer was more of the same old bullshit, then he was still going to be pissed...

“Eef you die, zen I will die right along wiz you,” Fleur replied with intense conviction in her voice. ‘I ‘aave no eentention of sending you een zere alone. I ‘ave been training for years to approach your level of skill... Of course, just by feeling your magic I can tell zat I am nowhere close to you een terms of raw power, but I am a ’ighly trained professional now, and I am determined to do my part.”

“Yeah… no,” Harry immediately responded. “Not a freaking chance.”

Fleur started drawing in an angry breath, but she stopped when Harry threw up a hand in a halting motion.

“Stop for a second and listen Fleur,” Harry ground out in a harried sounding voice. “If it were anyone else but you saying what you’re currently saying, I’d immediately assume that they’re attempting to emotionally blackmail me. I’d think that they’re trying to force me to get involved because it's the only way to keep them safe.”

With a sigh, Harry rubbed at his face and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t think that’s what you’re trying to do. I really do believe you want to help. The problem with your good intentions is that you don’t have what it takes to defend yourself from what Bastien’s throwing around… If I recall correctly, your strong points were charms and enchantments, but you weren’t too shabby at offensive spells either. Unfortunately for you, what you really need instead, is a level of Transfiguration that borders on the impossible. You need to be able to maintain a moving perimeter of different material flowing between you and your adversary at all times.”

“Show me what you mean zen.” Fleur crossed her arms and stared at Harry as if she’d immediately learn how to accomplish what he was talking about.

Rising to his feet, Harry conjured a piece of paper and a quill and then wrote Madam Rosmerta a small thank you and apology letter. They weren’t going to be able to stick around for some of The Broomstick’s rather tasty cuisine.

“What are you doing, ‘Arry?” Fleur’s question answered itself when she leaned in and read the note, so she rose to her feet and walked around the table. By the time Harry was finished signing the bottom of the slip of paper, she was standing at his side and holding out her hand. “Where are we going?”

“The bottom of an abandoned strip mine,” Harry responded in a neutral tone.

“What? Why?”

“Because we don’t need me tearing up public property merely for a demonstration.” Without another word, Harry grabbed onto Fleur’s hand and side-along Apparated her out of the room.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The moonlit darkness and biting cold that Harry and Fleur emerged into immediately made it obvious that they were in a completely different time zone and much, much further North than they’d been just a split second earlier. Fleur started rubbing at her arms as she looked around the dimly lit expanse.

“Granite is an igneous rock and it’s the second hardest natural material after diamonds,” Harry explained in a casual voice. “I bought this strip mine to use as a training ground, because even though I tend to ward my properties right out of existence, I still needed a location that was extremely remote and barren.”

When Harry finally looked back at Fleur and noticed her shivering, he waved his hand to cast a high power warming charm around her body. Then, after casting a wind blocking spell around the entire area just in case, he started casting the Lumos Exteras spell over and over. Soon enough, dozens of small but bright globes of light were floating up above their heads, lighting the entire area as if they were in a sports arena.

“So you just don’t bozzer to use wands anymore?” Fleur was staring at Harry’s completely empty hands as she attempted to hide her shock.

“I’d normally be far more modest about my abilities in order to protect your feelings, Fleur, but to do so right now would be a mistake. You need to see how outclassed you are so that you won’t attempt the impossible.” Even as he said those words, Harry bent over to draw a dark and unassuming looking wooden wand from within a hidden holster on his right calf. “This wand is a very powerful relic that I picked up by chance and earned the right to use when Tom Riddle killed me. It allows me to channel ungodly amounts of magic all at once, which is the only reason I can do something like this.”

Raising the wand, Harry pointed it off into the distance, and over the following three seconds, a large ring of glowing green magic appeared just below the tip of his wand, where it began coalescing into a stylized series of runes. After the Runes finished forming, they immediately started spinning in place at an extremely rapid rate. Finally, with a small grunt of effort, Harry began pouring huge amounts of magical power out through the tip of the wand and into the spinning runic formation.

The system that Harry was using allowed the runes to shape his unattributed magic into a rapidfire outpouring of incredibly well constructed spells. Dozens of spells a second rocketed across the clearing to slam into the distant walls of the mine and detonate into an almost united series of deafening explosions. Over the next ten seconds, Harry swept the wand to the right, directing the almost unbroken line of red spells across a hundred and fifty feet of solid rock, and by the time he finished his demonstration, the entire far edge of the Kilometer wide strip mine was a fiery conflagration and millions of extremely tiny pebbles were bouncing around at their feet.

“But, if, if you can do this… Why are you even worried?” Fleur was far beyond trying to hide her astonishment. Her body trembled from top to bottom as she saw Harry casually pull off Merlin caliber acts of wanton destruction. “You could obliterate Bastien, ‘Arry! Why are you even ‘esitating?!”

“You obviously don’t understand the true scope of what I’ve been dealing with Fleur.” Turning around, Harry gestured behind himself where a wall of flame was still attempting to burn a hole into the sterile rock. “If Bastien has indeed made use of Tom Riddle’s memoirs, he’ll be able to pull off this kind of attack with ease. Riddle, McAndrews, Karkaroff, Lucretia and Rerek… All five of those people managed to perform ritualistic atrocities using human sacrifices. These rituals changed something fundamental in their magic, allowing them to release this kind of power as if it’s merely a Lumos spell. I just cast a series of mundane Bombarda spells and if I’d continued that attack for another minute or two, I’d have exhausted myself. Unlike me, all of the Dark Lords that I’ve met so far are able to cast a seemingly endless string of Crucio curses, maiming spells and Avada Kadavras. The Killing curses are an especially big pain in the ass, mostly because they explode on impact a lot like a Bombarda does. Even if you manage to erect a physical shield to stop the curse, you’re about to get launched because of the explosion that it causes. In terms of pure power output, the average Dark Lord still has me beat, and when they’re not casting a curse, they’re usually moving around in an incorporeal state. They’re unbelievably hard to hit with anything.”

“Wait… Incorporeal?” At this point, Fleur was noticeably having trouble keeping up.

“Yes, incorporeal,” Harry repeated in a frustrated growl. “They can become some kind of black wraith to rapidly fly short distances, during which time all of my spells fly right through their bodies. Then, when they reassemble, it's with their wands already pointed in my direction.”

“‘Ow ‘aave you managed eet all zen? ‘Ow ‘aave you survived all of zis? With every new revelation, Fleur was becoming increasingly upset, the set of her shoulders and her chin lowering with what looked like exhaustion.

“Well, suffice it to say, I’m pretty grateful that I started experimenting with Metamorphmagery,” Harry replied with a shrug. “At this point, despite my fresh-faced appearance, I’m actually a battle scarred veteran with several gnarly curse wounds, burns, a reattached arm and a partially regrown leg. Still… I’ll answer your question. First of all, I’m uncommonly gifted at rapid, short-range Apparating. I can Apparate completely silently, and if I desire to, I can delay my arrival so that I seem to disappear for several moments at a time. The other reason I’m alive today is because I witnessed Dumbledore’s duel against Riddle in the British Ministry of Magic. I saw him mold the objects and walls around the room into dolphins and deer and such that leapt in front of Tom’s curses. For my part, I’m not nearly as theatrical. I’m only interested in results.”

Stowing away his wand, Harry cracked his neck and then drew in a deep breath.

As the ground beneath the two of them suddenly started rumbling, Fleur began stumbling back away. She was just in time to avoid tripping as all of the stone in the ground for about a five meter radius around Harry started ripping itself up and folding in upon itself. Soon enough, a complex scale-like pattern of interlocking rock began shifting all around Harry’s body, with a half foot thick layer of extremely fine sand roiling around as an outer layer. Considering the scope and complexity of it all, the massive rock fortification was actually pretty quiet in its movements. The barrier wall was surreal to the point of being spooky because it seemed to flow in and around itself with a will all of its own. Then, very suddenly, the dome of interlocking rock opened up and Harry walked out, wearing a thin layer of ever shifting plate armor made of even more granite.

“Another reason why I practice here is because igneous rock is extremely hard to work with,” Harry explained, as he forced his defensive Transfiguration to turn into a gritty sand and drop away. “If you give me a sandy beach, a tarmac street or a brick lined building, I can make something a lot faster, a lot bigger and a lot more complex.”

“Why ze sandy outer layer,” Fleur asked in a choked out little voice. Then she shook herself at the random question. It appeared she had no idea why something trivial like that was the part that stood out to her...

“Excellent question,” Harry announced in an impressed sounding voice. “You have very good instincts. The Avada Kedavra curse blows up if it hits an object that doesn’t contain a soul. The size and violence of the explosion is directly proportional to the size and density of the object that it hits. If the curse hits a single grain of sand…”

“Far smaller and less violent explosion,” Fleur whispered.

“Exactly…”

“Wiz all zese skills at your disposal, you ‘aave still been eenjured. you ‘aave still ended up near death?” Pulling out her own wand, Fleur visibly struggled while Transfiguring herself a simple granite chair. Then, when it was finally completed, she collapsed into it and held her hands up to her face.

“Well… Yes,” Harry finally answered as he conjured a wooden chair and sat down across from Fleur. “I mean, I’m not a dick. There’s a legitimate reason why I want to retire. I barely feel my right ankle anymore, my left arm feels foreign even though I know it isn’t, and my curse scars throb on rainy days. Not only that, but once a month I need to magically filter out my blood to get rid of trace amounts of toxicity from a lingering poison curse. Before you ask, yes, I’ve tried several times to banish the curse, but it’s proving to be an insidious little bastard. If it weren’t for the fact that my bloodstream already contains neutralized Basilisk poison, I’d have died over two years ago. The Basilisk poison doesn’t play nice with any other variant.”

Sinking further and further into her chair at Harry’s explanation, Fleur leaned her elbows onto her knees and stared down at her shaking hands.

“It’s time that you give up on dueling the Dark Lord community,” Harry pointed out in a not unsympathetic tone of voice. “On the other hand, you’ve already accomplished what you came here to do… I get it after all. I’m most likely the only person qualified to fight this Bastien guy... I mean, I already knew that, but I guess I needed to see it on your face for the reality to really sink in.”

With a wave of his hand, Harry enchanted a nearby rock to become a Portkey back to the Three Broomsticks. “That there’s a Portkey back to Hogsmeade. If you’ll excuse me, I need to take care of some things, get my affairs in order…” Harry started leaning forward to stand up, but a small hand suddenly struck out to grab a hold of his wrist.

“You are such an eegnorant, dense, foolish eediotic, Englishman,” Fleur suddenly called out, as her head rose up from within her elbows. “Why do you zink I’ve been training all zis time you eembecile?! Why do you zink I rapidly rose through ze ranks of an elite law enforcement agency?! Why do you zink I’ve been going to all of zis effort?! I did eet for you, you fool! I completely despise ze way ze world foists all of zese villains upon you! I can’t stand ze way zey carelessly drop ze fate of entire nations een your lap! Zey treat you as eef you are more zan a man, more zan a mere mortal. Well I know better! you get ‘urt, you bleed, you shed tears, you’re as vulnerable to pain and suffering as anyone… And yet… you keep doing zis to yourself over and over... You and I both know you weren’t going to refuse to fight Bastien, regardless of who met you een zat meeting room. I didn’t ask to be ‘ere to try to tip ze scales een my country’s favor. I thought I could finally be of ‘elp to you. I thought I was ready…”

Fat, heavy tears, dropped from Fleur’s eyes onto her lap and she started hiccuping as her breathing became labored and irregular. Harry was completely unmanned. He had no idea what he should do. He’d completely misread Fleur’s intentions, and now he’d rendered years of dedicated effort into a worthless waste of time...

Shit…

With no recourse but to do every single thing that came to mind, Harry grabbed Fleur’s wrist, Apparated her to the most picturesque property that he owned, pushed her into his favorite reclining chair, conjured a blanket onto her lap and then lit the nearby fireplace. Within the next half a minute, he had a kettle full of water boiling in order to make a cup of hot chocolate, and he was sitting at Fleur’s side with his hand in her lap.

Fleur didn’t even seem to notice. She was still sobbing into her hands like a little girl, with snot and hiccupping and everything. A small part of Harry wanted to remember this moment because of how rare it was. Fleur Delacour is one of those people that never seems to lose their cool. The rest of him wanted to make it all better, but he didn’t know how, which was making him feel completely helpless. In the end, he just rubbed the woman’s arm so that she’d know that he was there.

“You’ve worked hard,” Harry whispered half an hour later, when Fleur finally seemed to have cried herself to exhaustion. “I know that. I can feel it in your magic. I just didn’t know why.”

“Eet doesn’t even matter now. I’ll never be powerful enough to make a difference,” Fleur whimpered out.

“Strong enough to make a difference huh…” For a few moments in a row Harry hesitated. Then he drew in a deep breath and sat up in his chair. “It’s probably time that I explain something to you Fleur. Unlike every other wizard that I’ve ever met, my core power grows by approximately 0.125 percent every single time I exhaust all of my magic, and I make sure to do so at least once every single day. What that means is I generally gain an additional fifty percent strength increase every single year, and taking into consideration the fact that this percentage gain is exponential rather than linear… I’m strong, Fleur. I’m very, very strong. I don’t know why, I just am. When you make comparisons between the two of us, you do yourself a massive disservice. On the other hand, I’m waaaay better off with a femme fatale badass like you watching my back than Bastien is with that silly little fan club of his.” Harry squeezed Fleur’s arm again and then smiled when she grabbed his wrist in return.

“You’ll let me assist you zen?” Fleur slowly started to emerge from within the blanket Harry had given her, her face just a little bit puffy from crying.

“I can’t even get started without you, Fleur,” Harry immediately replied. “The first thing we need to do is figure out how to separate Bastien from his legion of followers, and while I’ve improved my Occlumency over the years, I’ll need your help figuring out how otherwise rational and reasonable people are being held in a thrall even when Bastien isn’t around. From what I know of allures…”

“Eet shouldn’t be possible,” Fleur quickly confirmed. “Ze Veela community ees also trying to feegure eet out, but most of zeir focus ees on bolstering ze enclave’s wards.”

“Both Bastien’s army and mobs of angry people from the general public who think that all Veela are to blame are trying to get at them,” Harry guessed.

“Oui…” Fleur bit her lip in concern and her grip on Harry’s wrist became almost painful.

“It looks like you might be worried about your family or maybe your significant other,” Harry pointed out. “Do you need to go back to France tonight?”

“I am not supposed to go back wizzout you,” Fleur responded as if she were quoting someone. “Why do you ask though? Do you need something of me?”

“I don’t see the point of doing anything right now except getting a good night’s sleep,” Harry sheepishly admitted. “In the morning though... I have several tasks I’ll need to accomplish, and I need you to give me a crash course in resisting high power allure.”

“Normally I would scoff at ze arrogance of zat statement,” Fleur said through a full power yawn. “Zis time I will wait to see for myself... As we both know, my baseline allure ’as never ‘ad any effect on you whatsoever…”

Harry couldn't help it. He rolled his eyes. Of course Fleur’s allure affected him. The only difference between him and other people was that his magic automatically labeled the feeling as foreign and not of his making. It helped, but it wasn’t a true immunity, and the difference was immaterial anyway. The truth of the matter was even without the effects of an allure, Fleur’s long, lean, ultra-curvaceous body was specifically designed to evoke lust in those that saw her, and Harry was no exception. The reason she wasn't aware of the effect that she had on his modesty was because his magic allowed him a certain amount of control over his body chemistry. It was by no means a perfect solution, but it was far better than nothing and it had always worked in the past.

Back in the day, during the time that Harry was still betrothed to Ginny, it would've been a disaster to allow himself to lust over his ‘elder sister’ Fleur. Suffice it to say, he’d become pretty damned practiced at controlling his sex drive…”

“You just rolled your eyes at me,” Fleur suddenly whispered, as if to herself.

“Must’ve been a trick of the firelight,” Harry offered with a small, barely present, grin on his face.

“You’re grinning at me now,” Fleur pointed out, her whisper just a little bit louder than before.

“Firelight and exhaustion, Fleur,” Harry supplied, this time with an openly amused smile on his face.

“’Arry Potter, tell me right this very second!…”

“Enough woman,” Harry demanded in a gruff tone that was nonetheless filled with amusement. “Every man on earth is affected by your allure. Are you happy now?”

“Actually… Yes. Yes I am. you were a stain on my ozzerwise perfect record.” Fleur was forced to look up at the ceiling so that she could look down her nose at Harry, but she did so with both enthusiasm and a smile upon her face. “As eet turns out, even ze great ‘Arry Potter ees just anozzer lecher zat I am forced to deal wiz. My mozzer will be so proud...”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Harry immediately replied. “If I recall correctly, your mother was horrified that you were romantically entangled with an Englishman.”

“Ahh, but you see, I ‘aave allure thralled ze ‘Arry Potter, ze Dark Lord Slayer eento saving our country and my ancestral people,” Fleur purred in mock satisfaction. “What’s more, I ‘aave made ’iim promise to train me…”

“I’m on board to take down Bastien and of course I’ll help train you where I can, but I’m worried about these persistent delusions of yours.” At this point, Harry was left shaking his head because Fleur’s smug grin was growing larger by the second.

“All ze jokes aside, I am mostly ‘appy because I was worried about finally meeting you again. I didn’t know eef you ever forgave me for my actions zat Christmas day.” Fleur looked down at her lap for several seconds before finally looking back up at Harry. “Now I’m only saddened zat I've been such a coward…”

“I won’t try to claim I wasn’t angry,” Harry replied, aiming to be entirely honest. “I was hurting and it seemed like you delivered the news in the most painful way possible. It was only later, when the Weasley’s tried to lie to my face about Ginny’s actions, that I realized your real intentions. Actually, Hermione was the first to realize your true motive, which is why she immediately started packing.”

Fleur grinned again at the mention of Hermione’s quick wit, but then her eyes grew distant again. “When by chance I over-eard zat Ronald cretin describing ‘iis sister’s actions to Bill, I eemmediately entered eento a full blown vengeance fuelled rage... “You were convalescing een bed at ze time, ‘aving only just returned ‘ome from a month spent exterminating zat monster McAndrews, and ze two of zem we’re joking about ’ow ze timing of your absence couldn’t ‘aave been better. Zey were laughing about ‘ow brave, selfless ‘Arry Potter was loaning out ‘is fiance for ze good of zeir family. Zey were also talking about ‘Ermione’s various achievements and ‘ow zey could best make use of ‘er. By ze time zey moved out of ‘earing range, I was determined to bring down zeir leetle ‘ouse of cards een as thorough a fashion as possible. You, me and ‘Ermione, were ze pawns een ze Weasley’s bid for power, so I sought out a way to reveal every-zing een an undeniable and public fashion. Unfortunately for you, my plan didn’t ‘aave much room for comfort or convenience…”

“After you left, the Weasley’s tried to claim that you didn’t give Ginny Veritaserum, but rather you Imperio cursed her and demanded that she say those things.” Harry shook his head, but he couldn’t help the wry grin that was growing on his face. “Of course, I immediately cast a diagnostic spell on Ginny, revealing that her mental defenses were completely untouched. I still offered to call the Auror service so that we could all give your testimony, but only because I already knew that they’d refuse. Sure enough, they claimed that any restitution the court case would give them wouldn’t be worth the embarrassment it would cause.”

“And Ginevra really squatted eellegally een ze Potter estate?” Fleur asked with an amused smile on her face. “Was she attempting to pull a fast one and exploit some money off of you, or?...”

For several moments in a row, Harry tried to think of a way to avoid answering Fleur’s question. It was a little too embarrassing and he didn’t want to get into it. Then he saw that Fleur was reading his body language again and was becoming increasingly interested.

Finally, he just sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Okay fine… Here goes. Ginny set up the bed from my primary estate’s master bedroom right next to the Floo so that she could ambush me whenever I had to go home to pick up something. She was apparently just living her life in nothing but expensive lingerie while waiting for me to arrive. I have literally no idea why she thought her sex would have any value considering how often she was giving it away, but there you have it. In the end, I was forced to bring a spare set of her robes and her brother George with me when I finally forced her out of there.”

Around the time Harry’s explanation reached the words ‘expensive lingerie’, Fleur began wiggling around in her chair. As the story continued, she started turning red and appeared to be nearly hyperventilating in her attempts to hold in her laughter. Finally, when the story came to an end, Fleur exploded into happy, healthy belly laughter that brought tears to her eyes and a sharp spike in allure throughout the whole entire room. Veela always have to contain their allure rather than the opposite, and a momentary loss of control under the wrong circumstances can spell disaster for everyone involved. Thankfully, Fleur had no reason to worry that Harry would molest her or anything, so both her laughter and her allure continued to pour out unabated. “Good Goddesses, Arry! Zat ees ze funniest zing I ‘aave ever ‘eard! After just barely choking out those words, Fleur completely unraveled again and pulled her blanket up over her head.

Since the entire reason that Harry had brought Fleur to his home in the first place was to make her feel better, he didn’t mind having to reveal a few sordid details about his life. Even as he smiled in relief, Fleur continued to shake under her blanket cocoon and a few unladylike snickers could be heard every now and then. On the other hand, the woman’s allure was quite a bit stronger than he remembered it being, forcing him to adjust himself physically while his magic asserted some control over the situation. Along with his magic’s intervention came a reminder that he still had a chore he’d yet to do today. With a small sigh, because he really had been enjoying just sitting around with Fleur, Harry started rising to his feet.
“What are you doing, ‘Arry?” After emerging from under her blanket at the sudden sound of movement, Fleur found Harry standing in the middle of the room and looking at her.

“I still haven’t exhausted my magic today,” Harry explained with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“‘You blew up an entire cliff face less zan an ‘our ago,” Fleur countered in an incredulous voice. “Eef zat didn’t do eet zen what will?”

“A mixture of the three most taxing branches of magic used all at once usually does the trick,” Harry answered as if Fleur’s question wasn’t sarcastic. “Tell me Fleur… Do you still prefer blue for most of your clothing or are you forced to wear a uniform these days? Accio box of gemstones.” With a wave of his hand, Harry summoned some materials from down in his work room.

“Ze three most magically taxing magics… Conjuration, Enchanting and Runescribing…” Fleur paused as she realized what Harry had in mind. “‘Arry… you don’t ‘aave to make me any-zing.”

After smiling in approval at Fleur’s good intentions, Harry started shaking his head. “Sorry Fleur. While normally I’d appreciate your desire to avoid taking advantage of me, now’s really not the time.”

After pausing his explanation for just a moment as a medium sized box landed in his outstretched hand, Harry continued as if he never stopped. “As you’ve requested of me, tomorrow I’m going to start training you to defend yourself against the worst kind of monsters. At the moment, your total magical capacity is about three times the size of the average civilian wizard. You’ve done extremely well. You’ve trained hard. It’s still not good enough. My project over the next few days is going to be creating several magic storage amulets that you can wear upon your body. Now... Which of these gemstones would you be willing to wear everyday?” Plunking the box down on the carpet, Harry opened it to reveal a wide assortment of unbelievably pure diamonds and precious gems.

”Where.. How?” Fleur breathed out, as the view in front of her rendered her nearly speechless.

“I’m not sure if this will ruin some of your enjoyment of these stones, but I made all of these using a series of rune matrices that I designed.” When Fleur’s face whipped up to give Harry a look that demanded answers, he nodded and sat down cross legged next to the box. “Well, in order to create precious stones, all you need are the base components that can be found within igneous rocks, plus heat, pressure and time. I have an invention that can apply extreme amounts of all three of these forces for the length of time that you have the magic to fuel it. My personal magic was nowhere near strong enough to make all of these, but by hooking up the rune matrix to more than twenty fully charged ward stones, I was finally able to make it work.”

“You could be so rich, Arry,” Fleur whispered, as she moved forward off her chair and kneeled in front of the box.

“Sorry to ruin the moment for you, Fleur, but this process isn’t actually a viable way of making money.” With a shrug, Harry picked up an especially impressive diamond and then plinked it back into the box as if it was only a wooden bead. “The cost of completely draining so many perfectly good ward stones prohibits this as a money making venture. What this more closely resembles is that of an alchemic exchange. I wasn’t trying to make money. What I needed instead was a way to make a huge amount of impossibly pure gemstones to use as crafting material.”

“You are so annoying sometimes,” Fleur breathed out as she continued to comb through the overlarge cache of gems.

“What’d I do this time?” While Harry had no doubt that he was guilty of something, Fleur was very different from most of the women that he knew, and her sensibilities tended to surprise him.

“You are doing zat ‘Arry Potter zing again, where you overwhelm me wiz generosity and act as eef eet’s nozzing at all,” Fleur accused with a pout. “Let me make some-zing very clear to you, ‘Arry Potter. I came ‘ere to ‘elp you, not ze ozzer way around.”

After nodding his head in sudden understanding, Harry placed his hands on Fleur’s shoulders and stared her in the eyes. “I’m beginning to think you’re misunderstanding something here Fleur. You’ve already established that you’re determined to help me fight Bastien and his people, which means I won’t be able to keep you at a safe distance. I know you well enough to know that you won’t be dissuaded, so what I’m going to do instead is weaponize you. By the time we leave for France, amulets that provide raw power will be hanging on your ears, wrapped around your wrists and laced into the fabric of your clothing. I’ll also need to give you at least two highly illegal Runic tattoos that will recreate some of my defensive abilities.”

“You know ‘ow to create Runic tattoos,” Fleur whispered, as if she might be arrested for merely mentioning them. “You want to put zem on moi, on me?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I’m very good at it,” Harry assured Fleur in a confident tone of voice. “I’ve been inking new tattoos into my own body for just under two years now, and nobody’s ever even noticed. Well, they’re tattoos in name only because I’ve implanted them within the subcutaneous fat layer, deep beneath my skin. What I mean to say is, you won’t have to worry about being caught. The only time the tattoos will ever be visible will be when you channel magic through them, at which point they’ll glow the same color as your aura.”

“Light blue,” Fleur answered in a mechanical voice, before shaking off her astonishment and grabbing Harry’s hands. “‘Arry! you eediot! ‘Do you even realize what you’ve done to yourself?! You’ve turned yourself eento a rogue warmage. Eef anyone ever finds out, you will be sentenced to an ICW deep sea prison for life!”

“No offense intended to your law enforcement colleagues,” Harry began in a carefully neutral tone, “but if any of them had the skills required to actually arrest me, I wouldn’t have needed to do any of this to myself in the first place. I implanted these tattoos because I keep almost dying, Fleur… I didn’t do it for the thrills…”

For the next several moments, Fleur’s mouth bobbed open and shut like a goldfish as she visibly tried to reconcile Harry’s words with her law enforcement values. Finally, she seemed to come to terms with what Harry was saying, and forced herself to calm back down. “Show me ze tattoos, ‘Arry. Actually, while you are revealing zings, show me all of your scars as well…”

“Yes to the tattoos, no to the scars,” Harry offered as a compromise.

“Both or I shall eemmediately begin pouting,” Fleur threatened in a deadly serious voice. ”And don’t try to act like eet won’t work eizzer, because we both know zat eet will.”

“I think that the sight of the scars will upset you,” Harry countered, in an extremely unconvincing tone of voice. While he actually was a decent actor, Fleur never fell for anything. It was to the point that he was having trouble even getting motivated.

“You survived zese fights, you’re ‘ealthy, and you ‘aave no debilitating eenjuries,” Fleur persisted. “Geeve eet up ‘Arry. I want to see ze scars and will not bend on zis.”

“I’ll have to take off most of my clothi… Yes, fine, fine, yes I know, you don’t care,” Harry harrumphed to himself while rolling his eyes. “Fine.”

Fleur moved back towards Harry’s favorite armchair as the man in question banished his shoes to the laundry room and then did the same with his socks. With very little fanfare, Harry yanked the cotton shirt up over his head, threw it aside, and then turned his attention to the clasp of his belt.

“Are you using your Metamorph skills right now, ‘Arry?” Very suddenly, Fleur was leaning forward in her chair.

“Well yeah. Of course I am,” Harry replied in a confused voice. “I already told you that I’m concealing various injuries and curse scars…”

“Zat’s not what I’m referring to,” Fleur corrected while gesturing at Harry’s body. “Are you eemproving your physique and muscle tone wiz magic or ees zis natural.”

With a look of dawning comprehension, Harry looked down in time to catch his pants dropping to the floor. “While I agree that I’ve changed a lot in the last three years, believe it or not, this is my unaltered body. Unlike with a true Metamorph’s abilities, my transformations are mostly cosmetic in nature. I can’t just grow a larger bicep and expect it to have increased strength.”

“‘Zen I’m not ze only one who’s been working ‘ard,” Fleur breathed out. “You ‘aave built quite ze splendid body for yourself...”

Gods and Goddesses help him. Fleur was raking him over red hot coals with her eyes, which of course meant that Harry was only seconds away from growing to full mast within his boxers. What's more, if he was going to channel magic into all of his tattoos at once then that was what he was going to have to focus on, rather than maintaining his modesty.

Well… fine.

Fleur was an adult, and she knew her own charms better than anyone. In the end, Harry just allowed his cock to do what it may while he coaxed a steady stream of magic throughout his various tattoos. Soon enough, an expansive array of Celtic Runes were glowing an emerald green all around the dimly lit room.

The tattoos were… extensive, taking up most of the skin around his entire body, with the few exceptions being his hands, neck, head and face. While Harry’s earlier words about Fleur’s colleagues had been true, that didn’t mean he intended to be an imbecile about it. With his tattoos lit up like a Christmas tree, Harry turned his attention back to Fleur, only to find that her eyes had strayed towards something unrelated… She was staring at his semi erect cock as if mesmerized. She was so distracted, in fact, she didn’t even seem to notice the laser light show that he was putting on with his magic.

“‘Arry… Same question as before,” Fleur murmured in a somewhat distracted fashion. “Are you using your Metamorph abilities right now?”

“What?... Oh.. Oh no, no, of course not,” Harry immediately defended. Then he paused as an amused grin slipped onto his face. “Although to be honest… I can definitely pull that off if it ever becomes necessary.”

Across the room, Fleur covered her face with both of her hands as she very quietly muttered the words “you needn’t bozzer.”

“What was that,” Harry asked.

“Nozzing ‘Arry,” Fleur loudly replied, popping up to her feet and then sitting back down again in a somewhat spastic fashion. “Now I zink eet’s time zat you show me all of zose upsetting scars…”

“So… wait,” Harry replied with even more confusion in his voice. “You’ve already lost interest in the runes?”

“Oui, yes, I wanted confirmation only,” Fleur quickly explained as she retreated further back into her chair.

“Uhh, that’s fine then, but if you’re going to join me hunting Bastien’s lieutenants, I seriously insist that you take on a few runes,” Harry asserted with a furrowed brow. “We’ll have you take a look at some drawings tomorrow.”

When Fleur absentmindedly nodded her understanding, Harry eased off on an almost unconscious use of magic that he kept toggled on whenever he was out of bed. Over the next fifteen seconds, a series of white and puckered slash marks encircled his right forearm where at one point it had been completely severed from his body, a wide swath of pale red burn scars showed up near his left hip, a jagged line of perfectly white skin developed above his left ankle where it was regrown, and a thin white scar cut a straight line down through his right eyebrow to trail a few centimeters down the length of his cheek. Next Harry allowed his curse scars to show up, revealing an asymmetrical series of what looked like pale white Lichtenberg figures (lightning scars) on his right leg, his left shoulder, and the right side of his upper back.

Across the room, Fleur slowly drew a hand up to cup her face, only to continue staring at Harry through her splayed open fingers. It appeared she wanted to look away but couldn’t, and was stuck in some kind of limbo.

“You don’t have to force yourself,” Harry reminded Fleur with a small wry grin on his face. “I know I look shades of Mad Eye these days so I understand your reaction.” As he spoke, Harry turned around to retrieve his polo shirt from the ground, at which point he heard a soft groan coming from somewhere behind him. Sheesh... Yeah sure, Harry had quite a bit of scarring, but his body shouldn’t be that horrifying… Or was he making light of the damages because he couldn’t face the truth?

With a small, unconscious shrug of his shoulders, Harry drew his shirt back up over his head, pulled on his pants, and then turned back towards Fleur. This time, when he looked back at the woman, she was visibly beating herself up over something. Harry immediately decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

After a few moments, where Fleur looked at literally anything in the room but at Harry, she suddenly turned towards him with a determined set to her shoulders. “I zink maybe eet’s best zat I return to ze Broomsticks to sleep een ze room arranged for me,”

“Ah, I… see,” Harry replied, surprise having robbed him of any eloquence whatsoever. “That’s up to you of course. This property definitely isn’t the Ritz, but it’s my favorite and most remote.”

After pinching his chin in thought, Harry conjured a small silver key hanging on a simple silver necklace. “This here is a reusable Portkey to this property. None of the Floos in this house are connected to the transit system for anything beyond conversation, so you’ll need this if you want to return here. Oh and please pick at least half a dozen gems before you leave. I really do need to get started on those amulets.”

When Harry handed the necklace over to Fleur, she stared at it for several seconds, shivered from top to bottom for seemingly no reason, and then quickly clasped it around her neck. “Zank you for trusting me wiz a key to your ‘ome, ‘Arry, but what about ze wards. Won’t I ‘aave trouble entering through zem wizzout you?”

Over the next few moments, Harry tried his very best to not look embarrassed, and then he failed. “I uhh... I never stopped adding the names Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour to the wards when I built new properties…”

In the split second that followed Harry’s sappy and embarrassing confession, a strained squeak slipped out of Fleur’s mouth and she took a large step in his direction with her arms poised for a hug. Immediately following that sudden explosion of movement, she just as quickly froze in place, reversed course and then completely turned away. For the next two minutes, Fleur occupied herself with selecting several of the gemstones. Harry spent that same time trying to force what he just saw to make some variety of sense…

Rising back up to her feet, Fleur Accio summoned seven blue tinted gemstones into her cupped hands and then placed them on the chairside table. “I will ‘aave no complaints whatsoever eef I ‘aave to wear zese stones every day for the rest of my life,” she assured, in response to Harry’s questioning look. “Feel free to use zese for ze amulets, and zank you een advance.”

Mostly due to his growing certainty that Fleur was running away from him, Harry just nodded and extended out his hand. “Since it would take you over two weeks to get back to England by yourself, I’ll Apparate the two of us back to the Broomsticks and apologize to Rosy.”

“You don’t ‘aave too…” Fleur paused as Harry’s words settled in, before jogging over to the window to look outside. Sure enough, when she drew the thick beige curtains aside, she saw what appeared to be a beautiful afternoon in a pristine stretch of virgin redwood forest... With a low growl of sudden frustration, Fleur whipped back around in Harry’s direction and then pointed out the window behind her. “Where are we, ‘Arry?!”

“British Columbia, Canada,” Harry replied with a satisfied smile upon his face. “A nice quiet stretch of land just a few Kilometers North of Washington State.”

“‘You Apparated us to Canada,” Fleur immediately shreiked, with a half wild look upon her face. “‘Ow though?! ‘Ow did we travel to ze ozzer side of ze world een one jump?! ‘Ow did we circumvent all of ze National border wards and ze countless barriers een ze way?! ‘Ow are we not een a government ‘olding cell right now?! ‘Ow could you be so unbelievably stupid and reckless?!” By the time Fleur was finished with her rapidfire questions, she was flushed with adrenaline and breathing heavily.

Right away, Harry saw that he was going to have to get a little bit… assertive with his old friend Fleur. The way she was currently overreacting to what he considered a Jaywalking level offense was going to have to come to an end, or working with her was going to be impossible.

Well… Bring it on…

After marching towards the woman to stare down at her from only half a foot away, Harry dropped the timber of his voice to just above a growl. “Here’s the deal, Fleur… I haven’t missed the fact that your time with the French Government has made you… strict. I can appreciate that. What I don’t appreciate is your current lack of understanding… Yes... I break several laws, both domestic and international, almost every day of the week. What you’re not taking into consideration is the fact that the dark wizard community has placed a bounty on my head numbering in the hundreds of millions. Hell, just two months ago, someone managed to reroute a Merlin be damned meteor to enter Earth’s atmosphere and crash land atop of what they thought was my home. So yes, I’ve been a naughty boy, Fleur. I’ve completely ignored international travel and property ownership laws, I’ve smuggled illegal and powerful magical relics for my own convenience, I’ve augmented my body in hundreds of little and not so little ways, I’ve spied on people all around the world using illegal magical tools, I’ve extracted information out of people using illegal magical methods, and when I’ve found it necessary, I’ve executed people without a trial or any legal authority. I’m a criminal, Fleur, an irredeemable scoundrel, and an uncontrolled warmage to boot. Unfortunately for you, what that means is you’re going to have to make a decision... Do you want me disobedient, alive and helping, or do you want me lawful, obedient and dead?”

With zero warning outside of a feline snarl of outrage, Fleur’s right arm suddenly struck out, hammering a sharp little fist right into Harry’s jaw that staggered him back several steps... and she wasn’t finished there. Long before Harry could regain his balance, she was already deep inside his guard and tackling him to the ground using all of her strength and body weight. While under normal circumstances, Harry would’ve been unleashing torrents of wandless magic by now, or at the very least throwing a punch or two in return, he couldn’t, not this time.

This time it was Fleur.

Wham, clatter, creak…

“Don’t you ever accuse me of not caring about you,” Fleur screamed directly into Harry’s face as she slammed him down against the floor by the collar of his shirt. “I don’t give a damn about ze laws you break you eembecile! I care about whezzer or not you get caught!! you will never break free of zis life on ze run eef your methods get you labeled a Dark Lord!! Oh and don’t delude yourself eizzer! I don’t want you one way or ze ozzer!”

“Tell that to your magic Fleur,” Harry bit out through a bloody lip and a growing fog of desire. “Your allure is thick enough to swim in!”

While it’s not uncommon for a part Veela to lose some control of their allure during moments of high stress or surprise, the act of releasing their allure at full strength only ever happens for one of two very specific reasons. Either the part Veela passionately hates the target and is trying to paralyze them with lust, or they are desperately attracted to the target and their magic is reacting to that need. The chances of Fleur deciding that she truly hated Harry, even during their current argument, were essentially nil. This left only one other explanation…

As soon as Fleur recognized the truth of Harry’s words, she immediately jerked to the side, rolled across the floor and launched herself off the ground. Even before she was finished landing back on her feet, she was wrestling her allure back to its baseline through sheer force of will.

Harry was going to take quite a bit longer to reach his feet, but that was mostly because his cock was as hard as steel and he was burning up with need. It was pretty obvious that his current arousal was both unwelcome and unappreciated, so he grit his teeth and forced his magic to take control of the situation.

“I don’t want you, ‘Arry,” Fleur insisted as she heaved for air and tried to smooth out her dress.

“I understand, and I’m sorry.” Harry didn’t actually believe Fleur and she knew it, but she wasn’t single and he knew it.

”No, no you don’t understand,” Fleur persisted. “I’m not just dating someone. I’m already engaged to be married.”

“And I’m not trying to tempt you,” Harry suddenly barked out, as he began rising back to his feet. ”Let me explain something to you Fleur. Every single day for over two years now, I’ve made use of a scrying pool. As an information gathering tool it has its uses, but it's only as focused as I am. Unfortunately, what that means is I’ve caught glimpses of almost every person that I care about without their permission. Do you know what I see when it comes to you and your sister? Both you and Gabrielle have lives. You have full, meaningful, happy lives, and just knowing that never fails to improve my state of mind.”

As the meaning behind Harry’s words penetrated Fleur’s panic, she drew in a deep breath for the first time in about a minute.

After pausing to heal the split in his lip and cause the blood stains on his shirt to disintegrate, Harry returned his attention back to Fleur. “What I’m trying to say is, I care about your happiness, Fleur, which is the reason why I have absolutely nothing to do with you... I am not trying to get in your pants.”

In the seconds that followed Harry’s rant, Fleur took a single step in his direction, stopped, chewed at her bottom lip and started clenching her fists into the material of her dress. “I’m… I’m really sorry ‘Arry. I’m sorry for a great many zings…”

“I know. So am I,” Harry replied, in a soft but tired sounding voice. “I also get it. I think we both know your reaction just now is some kind of Veela instinct thing.”

“Well, yes, partially… but eet ees made much, much worse by ze fact zat I care about you,” Fleur corrected, while looking down at her feet.

“I'm happy that you care, and I’m not upset at you for something you have no control over,” Harry soothed with his hands out at his sides. Then after taking two slow and unthreatening steps in Fleur’s direction, Harry extended out his hand palm side up. “Now that we have all that sorted out, how about I Apparate you back to…”

“Do you ’aave a spare bedroom zat I can use tonight?” Fleur was still looking down at her feet, but she appeared to want to bridge the gap that had just been created between them.

“Well that depends,” Harry returned, while raising his extended hand up to his chin. “Are you okay with eating English food?”

Scoff, giggle, snort!

Immediately and without saying a word, Harry turned around and drew in a deep breath for calm. Anyone who knew anything at all about Fleur, knew that you don’t acknowledge the fact that she giggle snorts. It’s a one way ticket to hell if you do (still funny though). While Harry focused his attention on keeping his amusement in check, he suddenly felt two slim arms wrap around his waist from behind and a forehead pressed firmly between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t move ‘Arry.” Fleur murmured into Harry’s back. “Zis ees ze best zat I can do for now.”

“I do miss the hugs,” Harry admitted in a soft nostalgic voice.

“You were always so cute zat way… You aren’t cute anymore…”

“Am I too grizzled and lumpy now?” This time Harry was clearly joking. Even he wasn’t dense enough to misunderstand given what just happened...

“Too much of everything,” Fleur whispered as if she was complaining to herself. “Too powerful and intuitively magical. Too athletic, virile, masculine and magnetic. Too dangerous and experienced. Too confident and daring... Too much... Too tempting…”

Harry had no idea how to respond to any of that, which is why he didn’t.

“Zis ees all my fault of course,” Fleur continued in a somewhat defeated tone of voice. “I didn’t see zis coming and I definitely should ‘aave. You never stopped growing ze entire time I knew you. You never stopped maturing.” As she spoke, Fleur’s hold around Harry’s stomach tightened as she pressed her body harder against his back. “I’m so proud of you, ’Arry...”

After debating about it for a second or two, Harry covered Fleur’s arms with his own and gave her forearms a squeeze. He wasn’t sure what was appropriate anymore, but Fleur had always been affectionate enough to make hand holding meaningless. Then, almost instantly, he realized that he’d made a mistake. The skin on Fleur’s arms immediately developed severe goosebumps as her hair stood on end, and a small but noticeable shiver ran throughout her entire body. Fleur’s body was reacting in extreme ways to even the smallest amount of stimuli. Harry was going to have to be extremely careful…

“If you’re staying,” Harry began in a carefully oblivious tone of voice. “Then we have time for me to show you some diagrams. I’ve been dabbling as an inventor and crafter lately, so I have several ideas for your amulets.”

“I’d enjoy that,” Fleur breathed out before quickly detaching herself from around Harry’s waist. She moved quickly as if she was tearing off a bandaid, giving Harry the impression that she’d been enjoying herself a little too much.

Given Fleur’s current… affliction, Harry briefly thought about just surprise Apparating the woman back to Hogsmeade. He didn’t. It had been several years since he’d last seen Fleur and despite everything that was happening, he wasn’t eager to see her leave. What he’d do instead was keep the girl at a moderate distance and distract her with more important things. It was a plan, but only time would tell if it was a good one.

“Feel free to explore the house while I go downstairs to the workroom,” Harry offered as he backed away. “I’ll only be gone for a couple of minutes.”

Fleur nodded her head in what could only be described as a knowing fashion. Clearly, she was fully aware of the state she was in. She was also aware of what he was doing about it. Knowing Fleur as well as he did was simultaneously making this situation easier and way, way harder…

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next couple of hours went by without any mishaps, but there was a subtle tension in the air that both Harry and Fleur were careful to ignore. Fleur kept herself at a distance and Harry acted like he didn’t notice.

Fleur kept herself busy by exploring Harry’s house and then cooking a dinner that she’d actually be willing to eat. She really did hate English food, so it was for the best that she could fend for herself.

Harry kept himself busy Conjuring, Enchanting and Rune inscribing several different magic storing amulets. During the crafting process, he managed to exhaust a little over half of his magic, and then the rest went towards beginning to charge them. One of the harder aspects of creating the amulets was making them so that they’d convert any magic that they received into ‘neutral’ magic that Fleur could bring into her body. According to Fleur, it still felt like she was drawing in what she called ‘‘Arry’, but her body accepted it without a problem. That was a good thing too because while Harry could fill the amulets to capacity at some point the next day, for Fleur to do the same would take several months of consistent effort.

“You say you ‘dabble’ een crafting, when een fact zese amulets are master artisan level artifacts,'' Fleur pointed out during dinner. She was noticeably proud of Harry’s abilities and she even had a somewhat smug look upon her face. It seemed she took pride in his Enchanting skills because she’d helped teach him the basics of the subject.

When nodding his appreciation just made Fleur arch her eyebrows at him, Harry realized that she actually wanted an in depth explanation. “Well yes,” he temporized, while ordering his thoughts into a coherent explanation. “I’ve improved quite a bit in most of my Mastery level subjects, mostly out of necessity. When I first realized that I needed to get out of the public eye, I also noticed for the very first time how finite the Potter resources were. The Potter family vault contained a vast amount of Galleons, yes, but I was going through a lot of money in a very short amount of time. I was buying large plots of land in various countries where I would lay down an extremely complicated network of find-me-not and unplottable barriers and an extensive amount of wards. I wanted to have safehouses available wherever I needed to go, because every single time I’m seen in public, anarchy soon follows.”

Fleur merely nodded. The house that they were currently sitting in was a good example of how far Harry had gone in that endeavor.

“Long story short, before I knew it, I had a series of well-appointed, comfortable and extremely well hidden homes all around the world, but I’d completely destroyed the Potter finances in the process.” The smile on Harry’s face was decidedly sheepish at this point, and he was having trouble maintaining eye contact. “For that reason, I ended up becoming a bit of an ‘entrepreneur’ over the last two and a half years.”

When Harry tried to end his explanation with a smile and a shrug, Fleur immediately started pouting at him. “Non, no ‘Arry. You do not get to stop zere. I want to know...”

This time Harry’s sheepish expression was also accompanied by a hand rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes looking off to the side. He wasn’t sure if Fleur should hear about his business arrangements because she was ‘the man’. She literally worked for a government…

“‘You listen to me, ‘Arry Potter,” Fleur barked out in her most officious elder sister voice. “As long as your businesses are above board een an ethical sense, you ‘aave nozzing to fear from me…”

With an alarmed look on his face, Harry started waving his hands in a negating fashion. “You have it wrong, Fleur. I’m not worried of you, I’m worried for you. I’m afraid what you’ll learn will cause a massive conflict of interest for you when things settle back down and you go back to work.”

“Zat ees a risk I am willing to take,” Fleur immediately called out in a confident voice. “I, Fleur Delacour, swear on my magic, to keep all of ze secrets ‘Arry Potter ees about to tell me, so long as zey remain a secret.” With a flourish of her wand, Fleur’s body emitted a bright blue light. “Zere. Now you ‘aave nozzing to worry about.”

For several seconds in a row, Harry just stared at Fleur with a completely stunned expression upon his face. Then he groaned and covered his face with his hands. “That wasn’t necessary at all, Fleur. Magical oaths are dangerous and I hate that you put yourself at risk.”

Fleur just shrugged her shoulders as if it was nothing at all, and then gestured for Harry to continue his explanation.

After another long drawn out sigh and a shake of his head, Harry steepled his hands atop his dining room table. “Fine then. I’ll start with what you’ve already surmised and then move on to what you haven’t. As you’ve already guessed, in certain circles, one of my aliases has become quite famous for synthesizing rare metals and gems in order to Enchant and Rune-craft extremely powerful artifacts. What you don’t know about, is how I use the neutralized basilisk venom and Phoenix tears residing in my blood as a medium to create healing slash detox potions of unparalleled strength and versatility. I’ve also invented a magical tool that can accelerate the growth rate of anything planted within a certain area to nearly explosive levels, I’ve cultivated and grown a large amount of very, very rare trees, and I’ve become a well-regarded Wand-smith. These three careers are all essentially legal, with the exception that I’m not actually a member of the Crafters, Potioneers or Wandmaker guilds.”

It was hard to tell if Fleur nodded her head, or it was just her mouth slowly dropping open….

“The rest of what I do... isn’t legal, like... at all…”Harry hedged with a defeated shrug of his shoulders. “Ironically, the same extensive network of extremely well-hidden properties that almost bankrupted me, have since become completely invaluable resources. These properties allow me to cultivate extremely rare materials and then shamelessly smuggle them from country to country. In fact, one of the first magical tools that I ever created is a relay system that allows me to Apparate from any one of my properties to another without being hindered by distance or the hundreds of wards that you would normally encounter. Not only does my relay system allow me to assist countries that are short of a specific resource, but it also allows me to skip all of the bureaucracy involved and completely negate supply chain costs. I’ll give you an example so that you’ll understand, although I still don’t think it’s wise to get too specific. A little less than two years ago, when Magical Egypt had a sudden rash of cockatrice swarms, thousands of people were paralyzed and their hospitals were being inundated. In response, I rapidly grew and then sold Egypt over ten thousand fully matured mandrakes at only a fraction of their normal cost. Of course, I made a killing even after selling at a bargain, and Egypt was saved from over four years of deficit. Unfortunately for me, several other countries lost out on a huge amount of profit because they were attempting to mark up their prices, and I undercut them in the extreme. These countries were quick to band together, putting up a one hundred thousand Galleon bounty for my arrest as a thief and a smuggler...”

At this point, Fleur was leaning over the table on her elbows, as if the ability to sit upright was being robbed from her body.

“Nowadays, I have several resource farming operations like the one I just described to you in locations all around the world, but they’re all just me keeping busy in lieu of anything better to do,” Harry concluded with a shrug. “Neville helps me out by being my proxy on the Wizard’s Council, and he also acts as a go-between for some of my larger business deals. He’s the well-trusted individual that can vouch for someone who insists on hiding behind a pseudonym. Of course, I do give Magical Britain a ton of resources for bargain barrel prices, so he doesn’t have anything to complain about.”

“Wha… What pseudonyms do you operate under?” Fleur looked like she already knew the answers, but she still wanted Harry to say the words out loud.

“Actually Neville made up both of my aliases when he first started negotiating with potential buyers,” Harry replied with an amused smile upon his face. “My crafter, wandmaker and potioneer name is Mr. Lynn, which is frequently shortened to Merlin instead, and my smuggling alias was originally given as Robe and Hood, but then it almost immediately evolved into Robin Hood. I’m a hundred percent certain Neville knew exactly what he was doing, but he steadfastly denies it every single time.”

“‘Arry Potter ze Dark Lord Slayer… ees also ze most celebrated crafter een ‘undreds of years and ze most eenfamous smuggler on ze face of ze planet,” Fleur breathed out, as her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Do you see what I’m seeing ‘ere, ‘Arry? Do you understand ze size and ze scope? Every-zing zat you do ees so big, so...”

Fleur‘s words slowly trailed to a stop as she began shivering from top to bottom and pressing her hands firmly against the table. “Eef you will excuse me, I suddenly feel ze need for some fresh air.”

With a slow, understanding nod of his head, Harry motioned Fleur towards the backdoor of the house. “There’s a wooden boardwalk that loops around the entire property starting just behind the house. Nothing out there will hurt you, but there are several different species of benign magical creature running around, and a family of Centaur working as shepherds. Please try to keep in mind the time difference between here and Europe. While it’s only noon here in British Columbia, for us it's already eight PM.”

“Zank you ‘Arry,” Fleur murmured as she stepped back, turned around and moved quickly across the room. Despite her obvious efforts to the contrary, the way she swayed her hips had Harry growing hard under the table. The fact that her body was doing that without her consciously willing it to, was a powerful indicator of how worked up she was.

Long after Fleur walked out the door, Harry just sat there, poleaxed in place by his current situation. He couldn’t figure out what would be the hardest thing to do in the days to come. Would it be fighting and subduing Dark Lord Bastien, or keeping his hands to himself for the sake of Fleur’s future…

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To Be Continued
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Author’s Note:

Several commenters are upset that I've written Fleur as being in a relationship, calling it unnecessary drama. While I understand the way these readers feel, this arrangement IS actually necessary. Fleur being engaged is an important roadblock that makes the romantic pairings promised in the tags possible.

Another commenter was upset because he/she believed I said Gabrielle was also in a relationship. I never said that she is, and in reality she isn't.

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Author's note 2:

If you like my writing, want to check on my release schedule + want to help support me, consider visiting my LINKTREE page at....... https://linktr.ee/karmealion

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