Harry had been warned by his father law that this would happen, even by his wife, though his mother in law had just laughed and said she trusted him, Hermione had given him and Fleur some Muggle books on child rearing, and Arthur and Molly some tips on raising siblings close in age.
He had thought Jean was joking about the fire, he wasn't joking. And Hermione's books had little counsel to give on Veela children, Molly and Arthur did have some useful counsel when dealing with Twins though, even if Fred and George would only rarely set things on fire.
He thought about that as he walked in on the room, brought by the sounds of his girls fighting, apparently there was a reason Fleur and Gabrielle were somewhat distant in age.
With practised ease, he flicked his wand and a shield sprung up to block the little fireball from hitting the couch, it also had the effect of making the two belligerent parties stop their fight cold, two sets of eyes, blue and green turned to look at him in horror, he also used a small jet of water from his wand to put out the fire on the new, velvet curtains they had bought in Turkey.
"Papa!"
Harry just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Where is your brother?"
"Here, Papa." A small voice said from the other side of the room and Harry saw his youngest get out from under his Cloak, green eyes like his own watching his older sisters warily.
"Sorry, dad, I tried to stop them, but-" before the other two could interrupt Harry stopped them with a glare, he turned to his son.
"It's okay, Sirius, you are not in trouble, go to your room, and good thinking with the Cloak." Harry had discovered it was fireproof and more than one people said they were doubtful it could be damaged, even with magical means. As his boy smiled at him and exited the room while looking worryingly at his sisters, Harry took a moment to glance around the living room.
The curtains were blackened by the fire, the walls were full of small scorch marks, there were small, downy feathers everywhere, most from the destroyed pillows and newer ones, from the girls, the couch he and Fleur had bought in Italy was ruined and that nice Chinese vase Cho had sent was singed, it was probably charmed against fire, thankfully.
Harry looked between his two eldest, Veela Twins, a rarity among them, according to Fleur, so similar but so different, Lilian was silvery blonde with his green eyes and Rose had his black hair and Fleur's blue eyes, opposites, and their personalities balanced in such a way they were either the best of friends or at each other's throats, Harry pitied the day they attended Hogwarts(he didn't know but McGonagall planned to retire around that time) because according to Fleur, those fights could get nasty as they reached puberty, especially, and Harry really hated to think that about his girls, if they were interested in the same boy, he honestly pitied the poor sod.
Shaking his head to clear those thoughts, Harry focused on the present, when he fixed his daughters with his most dissapointed stare, and channeled Fleur the best he could, because, according to her, he was way too forgiving with the children, "I don't care who started it, you're both grounded, and what really makes me sad is that you both would try to hurt your own sister, and endanger your own little brother, who is not resistant to fire!"
Both girls immediately started crying, and Harry had to work hard to not run and comfort them, 'They need to learn discipline, if they think you'll always pat their heads things will get much worse when they get older, believe me.' his wife's voice told him.
"Papa, I-we would never hurt Sirius, and I-I wouldn't hurt Rosey either, I was just so mad!" Lilian exchanged a look with her sister and they both hugged each other, Harry noticing the downy feathers on their arms were receding.
"It's true Dad, we were just fighting over, over-" she looked at the center of the room, where a half burnt doll lay there and came back to crying.
Harry who was a 'big softie' according to his wife, couldn't resist anymore and embraced his daughters, who cried in his chest and they tended to do, not that Fleur was unloving by any measure, but they always were closer to him, and Sirius to Fleur, something that seemed to amuse his father in law to no end.
As he looked around the room, half-way scorched by fire, covered in feathers and all but soaked by water, Harry snorted as he held on his crying Veela daughters.
"That certainly wasn't the books"