A/N: I was bored, so naturally I decided to write down the senseless babble that goes on in my head. Please R&R! P.S. French is in italics.
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter I wouldn't be writing on , duh.
Harry grinned as he listened to Dumbledore's welcoming speech. It was October 30th, and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students had just arrived earlier in the evening. They were holding a feast in their honor, so naturally Dumbledore would welcome them with one of his… unique… speeches. "... and tuck in!" the aforementioned man finished with a flourish of his bright purple robes.
The reason Harry was grinning was not because of the Tournament. No, he was grinning because he was absolutely certain that this would be a normal year for him. Or at least as normal as it could be for him. He was also excited because he would finally have some native speakers to practice his french with. He had been teaching himself the language ever since he came to Hogwarts because he had always wanted to move to France. Speaking of which, he still hadn't figured out why all the boys at the Gryffindor table had such glazed expressions on their faces whenever they looked at the pretty French girl. Sure, the Beauxbatons girl was pretty, but she wasn't drool worthy. Nobody was, except for... wait a second, he had seen some of them act like this before… at the Quidditch World Cup! When the veelas came out Ron had dragged him to his feet to stare at them. Maybe the girl had some veela blood in her? He supposed that it could be possible.
"Ron, stop staring! It's rude!" Hermione whispered loudly to Ron. "At least show a little self restraint, like Harry!"
"Whoah, Hermione, don't drag me into this." Harry said quickly, to keep Ron from targeting him.
"I wasn't staring." Ron muttered under his breathe.
"Yeah, and I'm Voldemort's apprentice." Hermione muttered darkly while shooting another glare towards Ron.
Ron started choking on his food and Harry stared at her in shock for a moment before he burst out laughing. "Geez, 'Mione, I've never heard you say Tom's name before!"
"Like you and Dumbledore say, fear of a name only serves to increase fear of the thing itself."
Hermione replied before they all continued eating.
"Excuze me." A heavily accented voice said from behind Harry a few minutes later. "Are you done wiz ze Bouillabaisse?"
Harry turned and saw the girl that everyone had been staring at was behind him, and all the guys at the table, and even some of the girls, had gone into stupors again. "Sure," He said in French, deciding that now was as good a time as any to reveal that he could speak another language, before passing the aforementioned dish to the girl. "Nobody here is eating it." Harry ignored the surprised looks on some of his housemates' faces as he waited for the girl to respond.
She looked at him in shock for a moment before she started shooting questions at him in rapid French. "I'm Fleur Delacour. Who are you? How do you speak French so well? Who taught you? Why do you go here when you could be at Beauxbatons? Wait, are you immune to my allure!?" and then she continued to say several words so quickly that he couldn't catch them.
"My name is Harry Potter; I have been teaching myself for the past few years because I have always wanted to live in France; I go to Hogwarts because I like it here; and what allure?." He asked, trying to keep the questions straight in his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not completely fluent yet and I didn't catch that last bit. Could you say it a little slower please?" He asked, bewildered by the extremely happy expression on her face. Her classmates could speak French, he didn't see why it was such a big deal that he could too.
He was even more confused when she suddenly grabbed his hand and practically dragged him across the hall towards the head table. To make matters worse, as soon as she had pulled him out of his seat everyone in the Great Hall had started staring at them. "Madame Maxime!" she said happily to her headmistress as soon as they reached their destination. "He is immune to the allure! AND he speaks French!"
"What?" The large woman exclaimed, so shocked that she had switched back to French. She quickly got a hold of herself and continued. "Dumbley-door, why did you not tell me zat you had a student 'oo waz immune to ze allurez? 'ad I known, I would 'ave brought all of my veela ztudentz!"
"Why, Madame Maxime, I didn't tell you because I didn't know myself. Hogwarts doesn't exactly have a large veela population you know." Dumbledore said with his eyes twinkling even more than usual.
"Hmmf. At Beauxbatons, we tezt all of our ztudentz ev'ry year to zee if any of zem are immune."
"Like I said, Madame, we do not have any veela students to test this on."
"Erm, excuse me." Harry said, still speaking in French. "What's going on?"
"You are immune to the veela allure." Fleur informed him. "Which makes you a potential mate for all veelas."
"What!" He cried, this time in English. "Do I get a say in this?" He asked, panicking slightly. They weren't going to force him to marry some stranger, were they?
"Of course." Madame Maxime said, looking affronted. "You get to choose your veela."
Harry was grateful that she had said that last bit in French. He couldn't imagine how the rest of the school would react to hearing that. "Erm… could we go somewhere less… public for an explanation?" He asked, painfully aware that Fleur was still holding his hand, looking like Christmas had come early.
"Of courze." Madame Maxime said in English, before she, Dumbledore, and McGonagall stood and lead them out of the hall.
As soon as they were in one of the family rooms behind the Great Hall, Harry managed to free himself from Fleur's death grip. "Will somebody please explain to me what is going on here?"
"Well Harry my boy, it seems that you've found yourself in a rather unique position. You are destined to be a veela's mate."
Harry was torn, he wasn't sure whether to laugh or run away screaming. "Erm, what?"
At this Madame Maxime took over. "I am going to azzume zat you 'ave not learned about veelaz yet?" At Harry's nod she continued "Well, veelaz 'ave a natural allure which zey use to keep suitors at bay. It 'elpz zem weed out the onez who are not strong enough to be zere mate. Only about one in every million people can wizztand a veela'z natural allure, and zeze are ze only people a veela will even conzider taking as a mate."
"But why do I have to choose a veela?" Harry asked, still confused.
"One in a million equates to about 7,000 people in the world." Dumbledore said. "There are easily three times as many veelas as that. About half of the 7,000 are girls, leaving only 3,500 potential mates, due to the fact that all pure veelas are girls. As you can see, this makes it difficult for veelas to find mates. Due to this, whenever they find a potential mate, that person has to choose a veela. If after the immune person meets a veela they choose a non-veela as a mate, the veela's instincts will take over and cause them to either go on a rampage and kill the immune person's chosen, or kill themselves. The veela is fine with it, however, if the immune person chooses another veela. Nobody knows why this is, but it's how it works."
"So, basically, I have to choose a wife out of a certain group or else they'll all die." Harry said flatly. "Anything else I need to know about this that will make my life significantly harder? Maybe I have to choose within 24 hours, or maybe I'll have to go into isolation for a year once I've chosen?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Fleur started giggling at his remarks, and he grinned. He didn't know why, but making her happy gave him a warm feeling inside.
"No, you have a year to choose, but…" Harry internally groaned. Dumbledore had that damn twinkle in his eyes again! "If I remember correctly, one of the potential veelas will have to be within 5 meters of you at any time until you have chosen."
"To keep you away from non-veelas. Think of it as a safety mechanism."
"Okay, let me get this straight. I have a year to pick the girl that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with, and during that time, at least one of the girls I have to choose from has to be near me to be a bodyguard and keep me away from normal girls?" Dumbledore nodded and this time Harry actually did groan aloud. "Merde, just when I thought that I was going to have a normal year." At this both he and Fleur burst out laughing, Fleur because she thought it was funny, and Harry at how ironic it seemed.
"Language!" Madame Maxime scolded "I will get the other girls." She said as she left the room.
"Wait a second…" Harry said "Where am I going to sleep? If the veelas have to be near me until I choose, I can't very well stay in the dorms, can I?"
"You will either stay in the Beauxbatons carriage or we will set up a joint common room for you in the castle." Dumbledore said, still twinkling brightly.
"Are you alright?" Fleur asked Harry quietly in French. "I know that this is a lot to take in."
"I'm fine." Harry responded with a sigh. "This sort of thing happens to me so often that I'm almost used to it."
"Oh, so you get told that you have to choose your wife everyday?"
"That's not what I meant!" He yelped indignantly before laughing with Fleur. He was surprised at how funny and good natured she was, she had seemed so cool and collected when she had put her paper in the Goblet. Maybe that was just a mask for everyone else and this was the real Fleur…
Harry was torn out of his musings by Madame Maxime portkeying in with three blonde girls in tow.
"Meester Potter, zeze are ze zree ozzer veelaz we 'ave at Beauxbatons. Zis is Marie," She said gesturing at the tallest of the girls.
She looked to be about 15 and had chocolate brown eyes and a shy demeanor as she greeted them quietly. "Hello, it is nice to meet you."
"Zis is Cecile," Madame Maxime continued, gesturing at the next girl.
She looked to be about 13 and was about 5 centimeters shorter than Marie. She had light green eyes and was very open and friendly. "Hello!" She said in English.
"And zis iz Gabrielle." She finished, looking at the last girl. Harry was amazed, she looked like an eight or 9 year old Fleur, there was no way that they weren't related. His suspicions were proven correct when Gabrielle ran forward and gave Fleur a big hug.
"Fleur! Are you going to marry him?" The little girl stage whispered, pointing not so discreetly at Harry.
Fleur laughed and said "Maybe. You're not interested?" She finished with a cocked brow.
"Mother says I'm too little to get married and I should help you to 'get your man'."
At this everyone in the room, even Marie, started laughing softly. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be stalked by veelas after all.
A/N: Please R&R, and tell me what you think!