Unravelling the cards

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21 July 1995 Delacourt Manor.

 The sound of laughter was what I heard as I approached the dining hall door the next morning. Ciaran was laughing, but what surprised me more was the fact that James and Jean-Claude joined him periodically.

 - Good morning, gentlemen. - I went to my seat, looking at the flushed faces of my allies in bewilderment, and Ciaran had tears in his eyes.

 - What are you laughing at, if it's no secret? - I asked, wondering what could have brought my friends to such a state.

 James made a visible effort to answer my question.

 - I think, gentlemen, we'd better tell Mr Britton at once," no one called me Potter after the ball, so as not to accidentally misspell it in front of witnesses.

 - The fact is, Harry," Ciaran took over the role of my enlightener, "that at such balls it is not uncommon, in addition to their primary significance, for quite a few alliances to be made on various matters.

 The usually reserved politician laughed even louder at this point, but I noticed that he had a slightly guilty look in his eyes, despite his amusement... It was alarming.

 - And very often at such events, parents of young men and women study prospective candidates.

 I had a sense of unease in my head, because yesterday I had also felt that some of the meaning of the celebration had passed my consciousness.

 - Yesterday," Delacourt Sr. finally entered the conversation, "I honestly did not warn you to mask your power and your abilities. Ciaran has often said that you are potentially a much stronger and more powerful mage, and that your abilities are slowly awakening, but I didn't think it would be so obvious.

 - When I watched you dance with Fleur," James looked at me with some sympathy and tried to explain, "I noticed that both of you were literally glowing with magic bursting free from your bodies. It showed most people in the know that you are quite a tidbit for those who want to add fresh and strong blood to the family heredity.

 The glass in my hand, for the first time since I'd been in the Delacour house, jerked, spilling some of its contents onto the table, staining the snow-white tablecloth with an ugly purple stain.

 - Gentlemen, are you saying that-" I didn't finish, horrified by the situation.

 - Exactly. In any sufficiently self-enclosed society there is an acute problem of degeneration and loss of strong genes by frequent intermarriage. You must have seen this in England, which suffered the most in World War II, where many wizards died, and then in the First War with Voldemort, which sent almost the entire elite of the aristocracy to the other world and Azkaban. Look at it - of your godfather's numerous family, where many, I'm not afraid of the word, powerful wizards were born, in the end there was only one man left - Sirius Black - and three women who married into other families - Narcissa, Bellatrix and Andromeda. The Malfoys, the Greengrasses, the Notts, the Pruetts, the Longbottoms, the Lestranges, the Rosiers, even the same Weasleys - all of them had cost a great deal in the last century.

 - So the problems are much the same in France? But the French community is much larger. - I looked at Delacourt, who had become serious.

 - It's still a problem. It's less acute, but since the aristocracy has an example like England before it, and was originally less oriented towards kinship marriages, the situation is a little easier here. But still there are too few mages, despite all the attempts of the Ministry and the leaders of the old families to change something.

 - And what's the danger of me losing control yesterday, Mr Delacourt? - I knew I wasn't going to get a good answer.

 - Well, how can I tell you... For starters," Delacour waved a hand with a stack of letters clutched in it. - I have received polite letters from two of my supporters asking if you are bound by marriage to any noble family. James, as your next of kin, has received two more with the same question.

 - At the ball last night, I got the impression that some people were looking at me with a very predatory squint," I answered honestly, trying not to panic at Fleur's reaction.

 - I should say that in England, you would have faced the same problem. But there you were saved by three factors," James, who had studied the English press in detail, and who usually played the role of Delacourt's team analyst, decided to show me the whole picture. - Your Muggle upbringing protected you in a way, though I doubt the people who put you there intended it to have that effect. And the second, if you'll excuse me, is your rather poor understanding of your abilities, which Ciaran is now trying to reveal in you.

 - The third, I suppose, is the contradictory work of the press? - I, having learnt a little about politics and public life thanks to my teachers, ventured a guess.

 - You can give Skeeter credit for her articles. - James grinned. - Her delusional and unprovable claims had done much to damage your reputation as a promising suitor in the eyes of those who were interested in you. Then again, you must have been "protected" by your guardian, who would not benefit from a national hero's rapprochement with the old aristocracy. Rather the opposite, for the policy of gradual destruction of traditional values, it was favourable for the Headmaster of Hogwarts to have you marry a girl from a simple family, not adhering to the codes of pureblood families.

 At the mention of Dumbledore, my eyes darkened with hatred, and only by a tremendous effort of will did I hold back the wave of involuntary magic.

 - As far as I understand, you can't just ignore these letters?

 - At most, we can pretend that since your "father," Brother James, is not in France, we are not at liberty to decide the matter for him. But delaying the decision beyond your majority will not work. - Jean-Claude looked at me as if apologising. - You have already established yourself as a strong mage, a political ally of the Delacours, Godefroy and Brittons in the French arena, you fought the attackers on my estate. Now you have in a way become part of our society.

 - May I decide this matter for myself? - I thought the easiest thing to do would be to open the cards.

 - Not until you're free of your guardian. That is, either when you reach the age of majority or by accusing him of neglecting his duties, for which, by the way, there are many reasons. - Delacourt was serious. - 'I received the original copy of your honourable parents' will by last night.

 - Yes, it's unlikely that Dumbledore will consider my wishes... Considering that he's sleeping on the idea of marrying me to Ginevra Weasley and then using her to take all the Potters' money after I'm dead.

 There was silence at the table. After weighing the pros and cons, I gathered all my resolve and spoke on the most frightening topic for a man of my age, as I had learned from the conversations of my classmates back in England.

 - Mr Delacourt- Under the circumstances, I consider it dishonourable for me to conceal my intentions. - It was as if the words had just started to roll off my tongue. - Intentions for your daughter, Fleur.

 The politician's eyes glinted sharply, but Ciaran nodded at me approvingly.

 - I had intended to begin this conversation on the day of my majority, but now I realise it would be disrespectful to you to delay it for a whole year. - I gulped down the contents of my glass, which I had poured wine into beforehand to give myself some courage.

 - Mr Delacourt, I plan to ask for your daughter Fleur's hand in marriage the same day I turn sixteen. - The hardest words have finally been spoken.

 - I think you've realised by now, Mr Potter, that I won't object to such a union. - Jean-Claude smiled. - But even that won't save you from what you're sure to encounter at Beauxbaton, since a formal engagement isn't until a year later anyway, and a contract requires a guardian or your majority. Then again, a formal engagement ceremony requires you to give your real name or the magic won't fix the contract.

 - I understand that. But I want you to know my intention.

 The crystal of glasses clinked as the four wine-filled vessels clashed over the table without spilling a drop of their purple contents. 

 Immediately after breakfast, I went to look for Fleur, who hadn't appeared in the hall, nor had Gabrielle and their mother. The faint smell of smoke coming from under the door to the girl's rooms made me a little wary. I knocked cautiously, and without waiting for a response, I pushed the door open, which turned out to be locked.

 - Alohomora! - A rivulet of power slid into my palms. The door shook, but held. Locked with a spell, then.

 - Alohomora! - A roaring torrent of magic that made the air shudder ripped from my hands. The magic of the manor, which perceived me as a member of the clan after the adjustment, did not prevent my actions, so that the spell placed by Fleur's forces on the door did not resist.

 The room that opened before me was very similar to the room I'd trashed at Hogwarts. Partially shattered furniture, shards of vases on the floor, the smell of burning carpet from the fire spell-Fleur was clearly furious. Pulling out my wand and casting a spherical defence spell on myself just in case, I walked over to the door that was apparently the girl's bedroom, where the suspicious sounds were coming from.

 - Inferflamio! - The fireball struck me squarely in the chest, but, engulfed by the glowing defence, disappeared without a trace.

 Fleur, standing in the middle of the devastated bedroom, stared at me in horror. She'd been throwing fireballs everywhere, judging by the numerous scorch marks on the walls, and I'd been unlucky enough to get in the way of one. Two tear tracks were visible on the soot-covered cheeks of the flushed, heavy-breathing girl. She clearly knew. And that kind of rabid jealousy, typical of true Veela, was a little frightening.

 I slowly approached the frozen girl and pulled her to me, one hand gently stroking the silky hair at the back of her head. Saying nothing, I simply stroked the tense back, neck, shoulders, feeling the tension gradually leave her body.

 Desperate to get any reaction from the still slightly shocked girl, I picked her up in my arms and sat her down on the bed, which had miraculously survived and crunched suspiciously beneath me.

 - I almost killed you, Harry. - A barely audible whisper.

 - Well, let's just say you wouldn't have. - On a hunch, I grabbed my earlobe with my teeth, sending a jolt of energy through Fleur's body. Regretfully, I let go of her ear, and continued:

 - None of them can have me, Fleur. I asked Jean-Claude for your hand today. - Tearful eyes looked at me in mute surprise.

 - So, future Lady Potter, I will not tolerate you being in such a sad mood. - The soft skin of my neck beneath my lips so soft and fragrant, I nearly lost my head.

 A flash of happiness inexpressible in words reached me through our connection, and then a frenzied whirlwind literally swept me off my feet, toppling me onto the bed. Sitting on top of me, the girl smiling ear to ear gave me a hot kiss, and then... then the ambiguity of the situation came to us, and my beloved's face immediately flooded with colour.

 All my thoughts were swept away by the heat of the girl on top of me, her arms and legs wrapped around me. Fleur's dilated pupils told me that she, too, was having... difficulties, but neither of us had the strength to just gently pull away.

 The light creak of the door opening in the next room - someone had decided to see how our conversation had ended. Fleur quickly rolled off me, blushing even more. Taking her hand, I went out into the living room, where Marie Delacourt was waiting for us, scrutinising the scorched walls in the full glow of Veil magic at full force. It was as if I'd been hit in the head by an impact spell, a ramming blow of incredible power, a whisper in my head, an order to submit, to fall to my knees.

 But the feeling of love in my chest for the girl clinging to my shoulder allowed me to stay where I was, to hold back the wave of magic tearing through my mind from the Veela Marie Delacourt, who was straining all her abilities. The panes in the windows vibrated as the wave of involuntary magic ripped from my body, surrounding me in an invisible cocoon of power.

 Finally, the woman exhaled air through clenched teeth and looked up at me with a smile:

 - Well then, Mr Potter, future Lord Potter... I see now that you can withstand Veela magic. I am at peace for my daughter's future.

 Fleur hung around her mother's neck with an enthusiastic squeal, and I stood for a while, trying to collect my thoughts after the unexpected mental attack.

 - Madame Delacourt, don't ever do that again... It's even stronger than Imperius....

 - I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but it's a necessary measure. A mage unable to withstand a full Veela aura cannot be the husband of someone of our kind - we don't want to fight amongst ourselves over a weak person.

 Despite my displeasure at this way of testing, I nodded in agreement, acknowledging the woman's point. I dread to think what would have happened if I had been more exposed to her.