Magic, Curses and Gods Amongst Men || HP x JJK

The sun was shining, its beams of light reflecting off the sparkling white walls of Chateau Delacour. In its garden, Fleur walked barefoot across the grass, wand in hand. The grass she walked on was a magical variety, three times as soft as the Muggle equivalent. Fleur and her sister had often fallen asleep on it during the hot summer nights when they were younger.

But now, Fleur used it to train, as she did every day. Her desperation had increased, though. She would prove to her father and to Harry that she was strong enough to fight alongside them in the war. In truth, she knew Harry had been right to stun her and leave her behind. She wasn't ready to face the kinds of wizards who had put her father in the hospital. But she would be ready—she just had to keep practicing and learning.

Snap.

A dummy equipped with a wand snapped up from the ground and fired a spell at her. Fleur twirled gracefully, batting away the spell and launching one of her own, which slammed into the dummy and sent it back down. More snaps sounded, and more spells were fired. Fleur ducked under the first and conjured a shield to block the second. She then fired a Disarming Charm, which the dummy countered by shooting a spell that collided with it.

Snap.

More dummies appeared, firing spells at Fleur, forcing her to run and dodge. Sweat built up on her forehead as she shielded against as many spells as she could, but eventually, it became too much. A Banishing Charm hit her shoulder, sending her flying back onto the grass. She groaned as she pushed herself up to her knees, then slammed her fist into the ground.

"Merde!" she shouted.

She stood, swishing her wand to reset the dummies, and tried again. The goal was to knock down all the dummies—there were fifteen of them that would rise sequentially. Fleur had to knock them down quickly, or she would end up outnumbered and overwhelmed. But that was easier said than done when they attacked as well as defended. While they couldn't cast Shield Charms, they could defend themselves by colliding their spells with hers—an ingenious feature of the training exercise.

Fleur tried again, and again, and again. Each attempt ended with her flat on her face. Her frustration grew as she failed repeatedly. She couldn't understand why she was so weak, why she wasn't even close to Harry's level. She wanted to fight by his side, but if she couldn't handle these dummies, how could she handle numerous Dark wizards or even one of Grindelwald's Acolytes? While she could make up for her lack of power with the versatility of her Magic Technique and the abilities gained from her Veela heritage, she didn't want to rely on them. She wanted knowledge and skill to form the core of her power, so no one could ever doubt that the power she wielded was truly hers.

Fleur grunted as she hit the ground again. She had managed to get to eight dummies this time before being overwhelmed—a slight improvement, but not enough. The problem with the exercise was that the more you defended, the harder it became. You had to constantly be on the attack, or you would lose. Fleur pushed herself up again, her body dripping with sweat. Ironically, it only served to make her look more alluring, beads of sweat dripping between her large breasts.

Casting a quick Tempus, she cursed when she realized the time. She had been training for over five hours and had missed lunch. It would only be a few more hours until dinner, and her maman would be furious if she missed that as well. She got to her feet and walked back into the chateau, heading upstairs to her room. Once inside, she closed the door and began to undress. She wanted to bathe and wash the sweat off her body before heading down to eat.

She unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor. Underneath, she wore a tight white vest that strained against her breasts. She pulled it over her head, letting her breasts bounce as they were freed. Fleur's breasts were as perfect as any could be—large, round, and perky, with sensitive nipples that hardened at the lightest touch. Trailing down from her breasts was a flat stomach, faintly defined by muscle from her constant training, and further down was a platinum blonde thatch of pubic hair, concealing a perfectly symmetrical vagina. Interestingly, a Veela's vaginal juices were similar to Amortentia, one of the most powerful love potions in the wizarding world. Rather than the usual musky smell most women had, a Veela's vaginal juices would smell of whatever the person's favorite scent was.

Fleur sauntered over to her en-suite, her heart-shaped bum jiggling slightly as she did. The bathtub in her bathroom was large, and it was already filled with steaming hot water. She made a mental note to thank their house elf later. She moved toward the tub, lifting a toned leg to dip her toe into the water. As usual, the temperature was perfect. She slid the rest of her body into the tub, sighing as the water massaged her muscles. Her hair fanned out around her as she lay back, closing her eyes. Despite the soothing water, the frustration from her afternoon training still simmered inside her.

Fleur moaned softly as her hand moved up her stomach and squeezed her breasts, her fingers trailing to pinch one of her nipples. Her other hand moved down, through the untamed pubic hair between her legs, finding the small clitoris nestled between her labia. She began to rub herself, gently pinching her nipples as she did. It had been too long since she had indulged herself like this. Veela were naturally sexual creatures, and her hunger for this had awakened years ago, but she found herself not attracted to any of the men around her.

Jolts of pleasure coursed through her body as she pinched her nipples harder and strummed her fingers against her clit. The pleasure began to build, but something was missing. It felt good, but not as good as it used to. It felt like there was something more she wanted. Something she craved.

As she rubbed herself faster, trying to bring herself to climax, a stray thought crossed her mind.

Harry.

This one thought cascaded into a thousand others, making Fleur moan loudly. She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth, worried someone would hear her. "'Arry!" she moaned, imagining the young wizard on top of her, thrusting into her. Her toes curled in the bathtub, her back arching as she aggressively teased her breasts. She could see it clearly—Harry over her, his crystal blue eyes gazing down as he filled her with his seed.

"Uhhhhhhhh!" Fleur moaned, her hand sliding down to penetrate herself with a finger, moving faster as she continued to imagine Harry taking her in every way imaginable. She knew it was wrong—he was three years younger than her—but she couldn't help it. Every thought of him brought her closer to the edge.

"OOOOOOHHH!!!!!" Fleur screamed as she came, squirting hard into the bath. Her entire body convulsed with the intensity of the orgasm, nearly causing her to pass out.

When it was over, her body felt so relaxed that she struggled to lift herself from the tub. It took nearly five minutes for her to make her way from the bath to her bed, where she collapsed, not even bothering to dress. She lay down and fell asleep.

A few hours later, Fleur woke from what felt like the best sleep she had ever had. She found herself drooling on the pillow and only woke up because of a loud banging on the door.

"Fleur, time to wake up! Dinner is ready," she heard her sister say in a sing-song voice.

Fleur tumbled out of bed, trying to stand. "I'll be zere in a minute," she called out, quickly getting dressed. Memories of earlier flooded her mind—how amazing her body had felt as she touched herself, thinking of Harry. Her face flushed, though mostly because she knew she would be doing it again soon.

It wasn't a problem, though, right? She was just imagining it. It wasn't like she was doing anything wrong. Fleur dressed in light clothing before heading downstairs to the dining room, where everyone was already seated. She sat next to Yennefer, who was seated on the left side of her maman.

"Nice of you to join us, ma petite. I thought I would 'ave to drag you down 'ere," her mother said.

"I was tired from training, so I fell asleep, maman," Fleur replied as she sat down.

"No matter," her father cut in. "As long as we are all together." He tapped the table with his hand, signaling for the house elves to serve the food.

Fleur glanced at Gabrielle, who sat with Ciri. The two girls whispered and giggled together. Fleur smiled slightly. Her sister had been rather lonely since their mother had disappeared, and she had thrown herself into training. It was nice to see her getting along with someone. "What 'ave you been doing today, Gabrielle?" Fleur asked as she started on her appetizer.

Gabrielle and Ciri whispered for a few moments.

"Gabrielle, ne sois pas impoli," Apolline chastised her youngest daughter.

"Sorry, maman," Gabrielle said. "Me and Ciri 'ave been looking for fairies," she said, looking at Fleur.

Fleur smiled. "And 'ave you found any?" she asked.

"Non, but Ciri says she knows some are around 'ere," Gabrielle replied.

While Fleur simply nodded, the girl next to her was not happy in the slightest.

"Cirilla... what did I tell you about this?" Yennefer said sternly, looking at the younger girl, who cast her eyes downward.

"Sorry..." Ciri muttered.

"Is zere a problem?" Apolline asked, looking at Yennefer with slight confusion.

"No... Ciri just knows that she shouldn't be doing things that'll get her into trouble," Yennefer replied before returning to her meal. After that, the mood at the table grew more solemn, and the girls stopped whispering, focusing on their food instead.

After taking a sip of wine, Louis cleared his throat. "Yesterday, while meeting with the Minister of Belgium, I ran into Harry," he said, turning nearly every head at the table.

"Harry! Is he okay? What did he say?" Ciri asked, leaning forward on the table to see past Gabrielle.

"Is he coming back 'ere?" Fleur asked, her legs shifting under the table.

"Has he been hurt?" Yennefer inquired.

Louis recoiled slightly at the wave of questions. "Please, one at a time," he said with a slight chuckle.

"You brought it on yourself the moment you mentioned 'im, chéri," Apolline said, amused.

Louis rolled his eyes before addressing the group. "Harry is fine. He recently helped end the occupation in Belgium, and he is uninjured, as far as I know."

He then looked at Fleur. "As for whether he'll come back here, I'm not sure. I told him he needs to rest for a few weeks. Whether he does that here is up to him."

The girls cheered, assuming this meant Harry was coming back. While Gabrielle didn't know him well, he had been kind when he was here and had even conjured things for them to play with. Ciri, however, was desperate to see Harry again. She had cried for days when they told her he was gone, though she knew he'd come back—he had promised.

Yennefer felt much the same as Ciri. She wanted to see Harry again. She felt safe when he was around, and it was a relief. When he wasn't here, it felt like she was responsible for both Ciri and herself, but when Harry was here, she could rely on him. He had proven himself trustworthy beyond measure, and while she knew it was selfish, she wanted to rely on him a little longer.

Fleur's reaction was the strongest of the group. Happiness, anger, longing, lust—all flooded her mind as she thought of him returning. She rubbed her thighs together under the table. What she had done earlier had released something that couldn't be contained again—and Fleur knew it. "Why didn't 'e come back with you, papa?" she asked.

Louis sighed. "It's complicated, ma petite, and not a discussion to have with children present."

Fleur wanted to push, but she knew her father wouldn't budge. He had always tried to protect them from the harsh realities of the world, especially when it came to being a Veela.

"Okay, papa," Fleur said, returning to her food.

"Does this mean the war is going well, mon amour?" Apolline asked.

"Apolline... not in front of Gabrielle," Louis said with a frown.

Apolline tutted. "You cannot protect 'er from everything, Louis. Better she learn from 'er father than from life."

"You will forgive me if I keep trying. No child should have to learn of these things, whether they are my daughter or not," Louis replied without looking at his wife.

Fleur sensed an argument brewing—she always could when it came to her parents. But to her surprise, her maman didn't argue back.

"Nous en reparlerons plus tard," Apolline said before returning to her meal. The rest of dinner passed without incident, with only casual conversation. After dinner, Ciri and Gabrielle went to play in the letters room, and Louis retired to his study, where Fleur followed him. When she entered, he was standing by the fireplace, leaning against the wall and smoking from a pipe with his remaining arm.

When she walked in, he looked up and smiled. "Fleur, would you care for a drink?" he asked.

Fleur furrowed her brow. "You've never let me drink from your stash before."

Louis smiled as he limped over to the cabinet. "It seems only yesterday I was bouncing you on my knee," he said, pausing to look at her. "Now you've become a grown woman, a powerful witch, and beautiful both inside and out."

Fleur crossed the distance between them, placing her hand on his arm. "Is everything okay, papa?" she asked.

Louis nodded. "I am okay. I just thought it was time I stopped treating you like a little girl," he said as he tried to pour her a drink, though it was difficult with one hand.

"Let me, papa," she said, gently shoving him toward his chair. "Go sit down." She poured them both a drink and then sat in the chair opposite her father after handing him his glass. They both took sips of the wine and sighed as the vintage from their vineyard engulfed their taste buds.

"You know, it was your great-great-grandfather who bottled this wine," Louis told her, rolling the wine around in his glass. "1852... that was a good year for wine." He then looked up from his glass to his daughter, who was watching him expectantly.

"Harry is uninjured on the surface, Fleur, but there are scars that run deeper than that," Louis said slowly.

"What do you mean, papa?" she asked.

Louis sighed, finishing his drink before setting the glass down. "War, Fleur... it is not grand. There is no glory to be found, especially not for the people who fight in it."

"War only takes—it takes the lives of your countrymen, your homes, but most of all, it takes what made you who you are and leaves you unrecognizable." Fleur shifted uncomfortably in her seat as her father continued.

"Some people never heal from this, and even those who do will carry scars that never fade."

"Why are you telling me this, papa?" Fleur asked, gripping her glass tightly.

"Because this is what you should expect when you see Harry next," he replied. "He has killed hundreds of people, seen even more die, and witnessed things no man should ever have to see—all at the age of thirteen."

"He will come home a shadow of what he once was. And from what Apolline tells me about his time in that prison, that shadow won't be much."

"I'm telling you this, Fleur, because you are his friend, and he will need friends to help him remember that there is a life outside of this," Louis said, reaching across to take his daughter's hand.

Fleur was overwhelmed and struggled to find the words to respond. Just as she was about to speak, her father's head whipped around.

"Go and find your sisters and mother now!" he shouted.

"Jacques! Amele!" Louis called for their house elves, but they did not answer—a sign that something had happened to them.

Fleur flinched at the sudden change in his tone. "Papa, what's wrong? What 'appened?" she asked, standing up.

"Someone is trying to break through the wards... they've broken through. Go and find your sisters and take them to the war room!" he ordered, moving to his desk. He plucked a daffodil from a flower pot on the desk and handed it to Fleur. "You know what to do," he said, and she nodded. He then pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.

"I love you, Fleur, and I am so proud of you," he said before picking a gladiolus and wrapping it around his wrist.

This was the Delacour family's innate Magic Technique: Blooming Manifestation. Since the beginning of time, plants had carried different meanings. It was said in some religions that Adam, the first man, knew the name of every tree and plant. The Delacours' ability stemmed from this concept. Flowers symbolized more to people than any other plant, and Louis and Fleur's Magic Technique allowed them to gain different abilities or power-ups based on the flower they wrapped around their wrist. They could only use one flower at a time, and they had to be intimately familiar with the plant and its symbolism. It took years to master a single flower, with Louis having mastered only four—and yet, he was one of the strongest wizards in France.

After kissing his daughter goodbye, Louis apparated out of the room, leaving Fleur alone. Wrapping the daffodil around her wrist, she felt her magic connect with it, a jolt of energy coursing through her body as her ability kicked in. She rushed out of the room, traveling at twice her usual speed. She raced down the open corridor toward the main house. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and a moment later, she was thrown from the corridor down one floor into the garden by an explosion. She yelped in pain as she hit the grass, but she knew she couldn't stay still. She pushed herself up, but not fast enough—a spell collided with her, sending her flying into the wall, nearly knocking her unconscious.

"Well, well, well. Seems I found a little stray."

Fleur looked up to see a young man in dark robes. "I would've stunned you, but I want you awake," he said.

"Crucio!" he shouted, and Fleur screamed, her body convulsing as every nerve felt as though it was on fire. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours. Fleur had learned about the Cruciatus Curse in school, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it.

She breathed heavily when the spell was lifted. Only moments ago, she had been full of energy, but now it felt as if it had all been drained from her body. "Veela may be creatures, but you're damn sexy. My wife won't be happy, but I'm sure you won't tell," the man said with a grin as he approached, unbuckling his trousers.

Fleur glared at him venomously. His wand was still pointed at her, so she couldn't draw her own without distracting him first. She looked him in the eyes and released her allure in its entirety. It hit him full force, his eyes glazing over as he smiled and knelt down to kiss her. Fleur seized the opportunity, drawing her wand and slashing it sideways, casting a cutting charm that sliced the man's neck open. He grabbed at his throat, his eyes clearing in anger, but he was too weak to do anything. A few moments later, he collapsed on top of her, bleeding onto her.

"No, no, no! Get off me!" she nearly screamed as the blood smeared her face. She managed to shove him off, then pushed herself against the wall of her home. She looked down at the body, the blood pooling at her feet, soaking her white socks and turning them red. Fleur turned away and vomited. The blood on her, the body next to her—it was all too much. She had never killed anyone before, and the experience made her stomach churn. It only got worse when she tasted blood on her tongue. She vomited again, more aggressively this time.

When she was done, she walked away from the dead wizard, her body still trembling. 'Gabrielle,' she thought. She had to find her sister. She couldn't let her be taken by these men. Fleur rushed back to the house, limping slightly as her body still ached from the fall and the Cruciatus Curse. When she entered the main house, she saw two men dueling her mother and Yennefer.

The room was in disarray as spells flew back and forth. Yennefer struggled, as she had never had formal magical education, and most of her spells were druidic in nature, requiring her to be outside. Apolline fared better, using her allure to slow the dark wizards as they fought to resist it. Fleur fired two stunners at the men, who fell to the ground, caught off guard with their backs to her.

"Fleur!" Apolline cried, rushing to hug her daughter. "Are you okay? Are you injured?" she asked, cupping Fleur's face and checking for wounds.

"No, maman, the blood isn't mine," Fleur replied, her body still shaking slightly.

"Where is your father?" Apolline asked.

"He told me to find you all and go to the war room," Fleur explained.

Apolline nodded. "Go find your sister and Ciri with Yennefer. I'm going to help your father," she said, kissing Fleur's forehead.

"No! I can fight too, maman!" Fleur protested desperately.

Apolline shook her head. "We fight to protect you. You fight to protect your sister. Now go," she said, guiding her over to Yennefer, who was already halfway out of the room.

Fleur reluctantly followed Yennefer, leaving her mother behind. "Do you know where zey are?" she asked Yennefer.

"They went to Gabrielle's room to play after dinner. I hope they're still there," Yennefer replied.

The two women ran as fast as they could to Gabrielle's room. Just as they reached the top of the stairs, they found someone standing outside the door. He was an older man with a neat haircut, wearing a dark overcoat and black leather gloves. He looked as though he was about to knock, but paused when he saw Fleur and Yennefer.

"Ah, I've found someone," the man said.

"Get away from ze door now!" Fleur shouted, raising her wand and firing a chain of stunners and banishing charms.

The man released his wand from his sleeve and batted away all of her spells. "Pathetic... seems to be a trend among French wizards," he said with a chuckle as he walked toward them. "Now come with me. Lord Grindelwald wants the whole family out in front of the chateau," he said, firing a Disarming Charm at both of them in less than a second.

To his surprise, Fleur managed to shield them both from the charm. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. "Perhaps I'll have a little fun with you. Be honored, girl. You have the privilege of fighting Abernathy, first among Grindelwald's Acolytes," Abernathy said, tightening his grip on his wand.

Fleur didn't waste time. Her Magic Technique increased her speed in every sense, including casting speed. She fired off spells twice as fast as usual, launching three spells every couple of seconds. Yennefer joined in, though at a slower rate.

Abernathy avoided most of the spells, deflecting the rest while continuing to walk toward them. Fleur screamed and fired a blue ball of flames that scorched the floor as it traveled toward him.

His eyes widened in surprise before he cast a powerful shield. Despite that, the flames still managed to push him back. When the fireball dissipated, Abernathy smiled maliciously. "I forgot how hot-tempered Veela can be. I'd like to let this last, but I'm on a time limit," he said, whipping his wand up and firing a widespread blast of raw magic. Fleur and Yennefer combined their efforts to shield themselves, but cracks appeared in the shield before it shattered, and they were both thrown down the staircase.

The marble floor was unforgiving as they tumbled down. Fleur even hit her head on the way down. When they finally reached the bottom, they struggled to stand, but Abernathy was already above them. Fleur raised her wand, trying to cast a spell, but Abernathy kicked her in the stomach, causing her to grunt as she was thrown across the ground. Yennefer tried to cast a spell at his legs but was stunned before she could raise her wand.

Fleur pushed herself against the wall. Her wand had fallen from her hand, leaving her unable to cast magic—at least not in her current form. Her body began to heat up, her eyes turning from blue to amber. All Veela had a true form, one that allowed them to fly and use fire magic without a wand. But as she began to transform, Abernathy laughed and rushed at her, kicking her in the chest and sending her through the wall, back into the main living area where her mother had been dueling.

With her transformation disrupted, Fleur could only crawl away. Meanwhile, Abernathy stood over her, a smile still playing on his lips. A few other men entered, and Abernathy instructed them to go upstairs and retrieve the younger girls.

"No..." Fleur muttered weakly, pushing herself up. She couldn't let them take Gabrielle—her little sister.

She threw a weak punch at Abernathy, but he didn't even flinch. He drew his fist back and cracked her across the face, sending her crashing to the floor again.

BOOM.

Abernathy turned his head. "Do you hear that? That's the sound of Grindelwald killing your father," he said with a chuckle.

He looked back down at Fleur, who was trying to stand again. "I suppose it's time to end this," he said, preparing to stun her. However, before he could cast the spell, the fireplace roared to life, green flames illuminating the room as someone stepped through.

Snow-white hair and a blindfold across his face—Harry Potter was unmistakable, no matter where he went.

Abernathy raised his eyebrows. "I didn't expect to see you here, Harry Potter."

"But I'm glad you are."

(AN: So Grindelwald is taking out the Minister of Magic for France. However he never could've expected Harry showing up. We are in for a big battle boys, but this is by no means the final battle. Get ready for we are getting close to the end. I hope you liked the little scene with Fleur, Harry won't be having sex yet but he will in the future, romance will probably start developing after second year. Maybe some second base stuff. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter.)

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