Dr. Dumbledore sat at his desk as he let the words on the sheet of paper in front of him sink in. The discovery laying behind them unheard of in the magical science community; unconsidered even. It wasn't anything anyone could have predicted. Developing a vaccine from this would change the lives of many women forever, that is for sure.
Clearing his throat, Dumbledore got up from his seat and walked over to the gene-screening machine that produced the result he held in his hand. Entering another sample from the cotton swap and adding a liquid solution to the sample, he placed the fresh vial into the centrifuge, before pushing the lid that protected the device down. The high pitched hum calmed his nerves, the thought of confirmation harrowing but exciting as well.
"Good Morning Mr. Potter, thank you for coming in again despite your busy schedule," Dr Dumbledore greeted the young man, his eyes doing their usual twinkly thing.
"Think nothing of it. I had a gap and am happy to be of help, Doctor," Harry replied somberly. "What is it you've found?"
Reminded by the discovery of last night, the older man straightened nervously before turning toward his office. "Of course, please follow me. There's news that may be of great interest to you."
"Nothing alarming," he assured, raising a hand to stop Harry from expressing any worry. "But...I admit, this will make waves."
Taking a seat opposite of Dumbledore's desk, Harry waited silently for the man to close the door to the room and take a seat in the much larger chair behind the desk. With trepidation and a reluctant hand, the old wizarding scientist brought forth a single sheet of paper that was covered in numbers and numerical formulas and long, hyphenated words. His name, while upside down, was perfectly visible on the top of the paper.
"Mr. Potter, when we heard that you had held a conversation with the leader of the Veela nation, we'd thought you to be a...charlatan, if you will. We'd thought you were able to hold your own based on some sort of mental training that has overcome the limits that other wizards and muggles have never managed to achieve."
"So I've been told many times," Harry nodded, his face devoid of emotion. "But looking at your face, I gather you've discovered a new explanation for my new found talent."
“Yes,” the older man agreed quickly. “I have.”
“However, allow me to present the facts of this situation again, before we address the nature and magnitude of the discovery.”
Harry shrugged, raising his hand to urge the older man to continue.
“Thank you, Mr Potter.”
“What do we know about the Veela Gene?” Dumbledore asked. ”Not much, except that it allows women, and only women, to gain superhuman strength, the ability to diffuse gases through the pores in their skin and that ignite when coming in contact with oxygen. Furthermore, Veela can manipulate their ability to diffuse amortentia-like hormones that affect males, and as recently discovered, females as well.”
“Except for me,” Harry provided.
“Exactly,” Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Except. For. You, Mr. Potter. No one in recorded history has ever been able to remain entirely unaffected by the so-called “Allure” of Veela.”
Shrugging again, Harry raised an eyebrow at the man. “So, tell me then. What is it that makes me ‘immune’ to the Veela Allure?”
“Precisely, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore nodded again while staring into Harry’s green eyes. “It is precisely because of that word that you are able to do the things you did with President Delacour.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve discovered that you possess a code in your DNA which allows you to produce an enzyme in your body that enables you to process and break down the hormone ‘Allurin’,” he revealed finally.
“So you’re saying-”
“You,” he stopped him again, “Are perfectly and, infinitely so, untouchable by the Allure of the Veela nation. You, Mr. Potter, hold the genetic key that could turn the tide against the Veela overlords.”
Continuation by D J Kopper
Harry smiled, he leaned back in his chair, and the sudden change in demeanor set off red flags in Dumbledore's mind. Unfortunately for him, and the United Kingdom as a whole, he was too caught up in his own fervor to pay head to them.
"So can you extract it? Or otherwise synthesize it?" Dumbledore was already nodding excitedly before the questions had fully formed.
"I think we can my boy, I think we can."
"You got everything you need?"
"Well a few more blood sam-" The wizened old doctor was starting to say, but then he realized that Harry was not talking to him. The red flags waved wildly in the wind and he reassessed the young man before him.
He was lounging in the little chair and looking down at a little mirror in his palm. He'd just spoken the question into it, and he was nodding in response to an answer Dumbledore hadn't heard.
"Veela allures are one thing," Dumbledore's protégé said, and his voice was cold now. "But president Delacour can be very ... persuasive all on her own old man."
There was the unmistakable thud of boots from outside the room.
"What have you done?" He whispered in horror, and the door behind Harry was blasted open.
A dozen hit wizards marched in, slicing the pie and training wands on him as the room was deemed clear.
"Playing for my own greater good." He told the old man and he was smirking at him, completely unphased by the explosive entry of a squad of killers. The steady click of approaching stilettos sounded from behind the young doctor.
Dumbledore watch with resignation, aware of his fate now, as slender arms slid around Harry's chest and clung to him. A face, devastating in its beauty, appeared over his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his neck just under the ear. Those cold veela eyes were all for Dumbledore though.
"Well done mon coeur." She said, without looking away from the older Doctor. (edited)
Dumbledore sagged in abject defeat as the last great hope for humanity turned in the arms of its greatest threat to kiss her.
A Different Kind of Immunity: Morning After
He stared out onto the vast gardens of Versailles with a touch of melancholy. He'd heard much of this place, about the historic significance it had held for the French nation, for the people who fought for a republic. A people that fought tyranny to their own ends.
He smiled at the thought of irony. He was in the most iconic place for what history recorded to be the beginning of the end of an ancient political system, the end of the divine right to rule.
"You find the garden more enticing than my bodice, Arrrrry?" A sultry voice purred from the large bed behind him. "If you were any other, I'd make you jump of the balcony."
The words may have sounded like they had been uttered in jest but the fact remained; Had he been any other man, she have gone through with it.
"I was merely giving the gardens the appreciation they deserve, Madame President."
"Call me Fleur, Arry," she corrected with a slight set to her jaw. "It's the least I can I do after what you've done to me."
He eyed her carefully, guarding his gaze while letting his glances travel along her hidden skin.
"I hope it was to your satisfaction, Fleur."
"Ah...your were sublime, mon maitre."
Maitre. Master. She mocked him. She had to be.
"You were an awe-inspiring lead. Your instructions are a credit to you," he insisted, his fist clenched behind him.
Her sultry smirk flattened to a bored line, the mirth sprawled across her face gone.
"Fine then. Since you feel you've done your duty to your country, I'll accept the terms. Consider them payment for services rendered to the French nation," she spoke with finality. Getting out of the bed and putting on her silk robe that hugged her like a second skin, she walked over to her vanity before eyeing his reflection in the mirror.
"You may go, Mr Potter."
Without another word he did just that. Not turning once to gaze at her again. The door closed with a satisfying thud behind him.
Crack
She breathed heavily into the mirror, her rage barely unhinged.
Crack Crack CracK
Broken glass stuck to her knuckles but was burned away by her fire momentarily. Her gaze remained on her own fractured reflection.
"I'm beautiful. I'm Fleur Delacour," she recited, almost manically. "I'm power. I'm might. I'm the Veela Queen."
"I will make you mine, Harry Potter."