Flowerpot

Harry and Fleur celebrate their anniversary, but rather than going out to some fancy restaurant, Harry cooks dinner, they put Victorie to bed and then they move things to the bedroom... Where they stay up late watching TV, cuddled together while snacking in the bed and sharing a bottle of wine. Rather than grand gestures, they feed each other crisps over a Top Gear rerun and do over-the-top mimicking of the presenters, and then draw parallels between Yes Minister and the state of affairs in the Ministry of Magic.

Dumbledore was a lonely soul after Grindelwald. No one had managed to get closer than a friend. The number of people he would consider close friends could be counted on a single hand with fingers to spare.

Dumbledore didn’t want to be lonely it was simply that he found himself rather busy or that others had a hard time looking past the tale of the Defeater of Grindelwald. He had in fact always wanted a child to fully pass on his knowledge and ideals. To know his legacy would live on. Of course, due to his preferences when it came to love, the child would need to be adopted, and he had made peace with this.

Just such an opportunity presented itself one Halloween night.

Dumbledore decided to take in Harry and raise him as his own. It couldn’t be that hard right… right?! The boy would have a tough life and Dumbledore could raise him to handle his fame and power.

Dumbledore needed help. He didn’t know how to raise a child. He also worked too many jobs ugh. He couldn’t go to Minnie; she told him it was a bad idea to begin with, and then she would never let it go. Sucking up his pride, he brought the child to the staff table during winter break and asked for everyone’s help.

This is the story of why Harry calls all the professors Aunt or Uncle and why he calls the big man himself Grandfather.

Harry and Fleur go on vacation to the United States, and during said vacation people watch and find it interesting how different everyone, including the Muggles, act compared to what they are used too. So later on in there vacation they come up with a challenge, Harry and Fleur will pick each other out an American stereotype and the other will have to act it out for a whole day. Harry chooses a surfer bro for Fleur to act like, while Fleur chooses the stereotypical Starbucks White Girl for Harry.

Even though Albus Dumbledore did not expect to find Tom's horcrux effortlessly, he most definitely had not anticipated the search to be so long and arduous.

Yet this was necessary. Not just to put an end to the senseless violence ocurring day in and day out, but to create a better future for wizarding Britain. You see, Albus was someone who deeply cared for his students and work colleagues, and to see them in pain was something he was decided to put and end to. Specially those whom he had an especial relation with, such as Harry or Severus.

Unperturbed, he dove in the cold waters and swam towards the ominous cave. There would be nothing to stand in his way. Certainly, not mere cold water.

When he reached the cave, he sensed malicious magic all around him, and, for once in some time, a victorious, grim smile appeared across his face. He had been right to come here.

He made his way through the dreary place, only hearing water drops fall. The cave felt oppressive, as if the air had weight. And the magic around him had turned even more malevolent. Tuning his senses, he even noticed there was an undertone to the magic he couldn't quite decipher. It felt... ancient. Deep. And powerful. Very powerful. And it was something that made Albus restless.

But he continued to move forward, as there was no way he wouldn't; until he came across a dead end. A frown marred Albus' face. And then, recognition.

"Yes", he mused. "Yes, yes. This is it." A glimmer of satisfaction shone upon Albus' face.

As he somewhat eagerly touched the wall, he sighed. "Oh, Tom. Can't you see there are more debilitating things than physical pain?"

Abruptly, he muttered a quick diffindo upon his hand and blood fell to the ground. And... as Albus was about to touch the wall, he heard something that made his blood ran cold.

A chilling laughter. Some noise behind him.

And then he saw him. Voldemort. And he seemed pleased. Very pleased. But why?

Albus didn't understand. And that frightened him.

Suddenly, a magic circle appeared down around him, and for the first time in his life, he saw a peaceful smile appear across his face.

"You are a fool, Albus Dumbledore. You have just been caught in my trap!" He said, his red eyes shining in wicked glee.

"Tom-" Albus started to say, but he knew it would be futile. The magic circle had activated. There wasn't anything Albus could do to get himself out of it.

When Albus opened his eyes again, he most certainly didn't expect to be in a castle. And even less being surrounded by people in armor or medieval dresses.

"Who are you, old man?!" He heard a crowned, fat man say.

Albus was so shocked he didn't answer his question.

"Tell me, you old fart!!!" The fat man with a crown sputtered angrily. "How have you appeared here in my castle, here, in the middle of King's Landing??"

As Albus heard those words, he felt himself falter.

"Oh, dear" Albus murmured. "What have you done, Tom?"

Captain Harry Potter is assigned the newly constructed Fawkes a113 Cruiser, a state-of-the-art starship capable of Warp 8. Harry is instructed by Fleet Admiral Dumbledore to hand-pick his crew from dozens of other Space Fleet vessels. Harry begins with his oldest friend Lieutenant-Commander Ronald Weasley and goes through the numerous recommendations and applications, determined to only select the very best for the longest and furthest exploratory mission in history.

He selects the best Extra-Terrestrial Botanist in the fleet, Neville Longbottom. The top science officer, Lieutenant Hermione Granger. Two promising doctors by the names of Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, among others.

But one name sticks out to him, one of the very few alien officers in the fleet, who hails from a little-known and rarely seen race of all-female aliens called Veela, a Commander by the name of Fleur Delacour who comes highly recommended and was promised to be the best Exo-Planet expert in the fleet. So, without another thought on the matter, Harry selects her.

The day arrives when he greets his new crew for a decade long mission, and he lays eyes on her...

...She's extremely beautiful, with silver hair, radiating skin, and a dazzling smile. What did it matter that she could transform into a terrifying avian that could shoot fire from her hands? She was really hot. It also didn't help that her uniform was skintight and formfitting.

And so begins Harry's attempt to learn more about her, despite her desire to keep her relations with her fellow shipmates professional, especially the only person on the ship who outranked her.

[make it funny, cliché, serious, heartwarming, whatever. just make it, pls]

Potters, the barons of High Peak, have been overthrown, and the orphan Harry grows up in secret while his family’s lands are controlled by the usurpers.

As a young adult now, Harry sees his family’s lands deteriorate even further. When he takes up arms to restore his family’s rightful place, he sees that event he fey, bound by an ancient pact of peace, are attacking the people of High Peak.

He must find allies and fight to restore peace in his family’s lands and protect his people, and also find out what has driven the fey to hostility.

Ideally, he will renew the Pact under the Leaves, and bring peace to both humans and fey.

========

Fleur is one of the fey who remembers the conditions of the Pact under the Leaves, the oaths that had brough peace in the ancient times. The union of human and fey, two children its fruit, one boy for humans, one girl for the fey.

The turmoil in High Peak did not spill into the forests, and so the fey remained at peace, aloof.

But when humans, led by powerful warlocks and necromancers, came into the forest to fell ancient trees and hunt both animals and fey, the Courts took up arms to drive the greedy humans away.

========

It is by chance that Harry and Fleur meet.

But sometimes, chance is all it takes for a legend to rise.

And maybe, Harry and Fleur will renew the Pact.

Prompt: Fleur Delacour has been recruited into the Order of the Phoenix. Her first mission: Rescue Harry Potter from Privet Drive.

Harry James Potter sat in his room feeling frustrated and lonely. After the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he had been sent back to Number 4, Privet Drive to spend the summer there, according to Dumbledore, for his protection. The only lengthy letter he received was from Fleur Delacour, the beautiful French witch from Beauxbatons.

Stunned, Harry reread the letter and heard loud noises and what sounded like an argument. Picking up his wand, Harry was about to open his bedroom door when it opened and revealed a familiar face.

"'Arry?"

A shocked Harry asked the newcomer, "Fleur?!"

Smiling, Fleur said, "I missed you, Mon Ami." She went over to Harry and gave him a warm hug.

"I missed you; too, Fleur," Harry replied as he returned her hug, something he had only done with Hermione. "Uhm, what are you doing here?"

Fleur replied with a smirk, "'Aven't you guessed? I am 'ere to rescue you."

Fleur Delacour found Harry Potter intriguing. After their first encounter in the trophy room, they had bumped into each other in the castle halls and, unlike every other adolescent male in a ten mile radius, he did not morph into a foolish braggart. She was lost, and Harry led her back to the entrance hall along a twisting maze of passages that defied logic and reason. He kept up a steady commentary as he did so, and Fleur found that it was surprisingly easy to be around him. She enjoyed his company, and resolved to enjoy it more.

For months they became closer, and Fleur was astonished at his level of self control. He had never once taken a peek at her body, never once ogled her from behind, never once done any of the things that it should have been impossible for a boy his age to resist.

. Yet even as Harry displayed the discipline of a Monk, Fleur found herself growing careless. There was something about Harry that drew her in, that made her want to know him, that made her want him, and it drove her further and further towards foolishness. No matter what Fleur did it was as if her efforts were waves crashing on a cliff leaving the stone entirely unaffected, and she became bolder in her efforts.

Eventually, after a series of truly blatant attempts at seduction that not only hadn't worked but that hadn't even been noticed, Fleur finally worked up the nerve to confront Harry directly. And by confront, she meant ask him vaguely related questions in a hypothetical context about his preferences in romance. And that was when she finally learned the truth, learned why her efforts weren't working, why Harry had such saintly discipline of his sexual instincts. Because he didn't have any. Harry had only recently learned the term, and she had never heard of it, but Harry was aesexual, and had no interest whatsoever in sexual intimacy of any kind.

Fleur was stumped. She wanted him, desperately wanted him, probably to a slightly unhealthy degree if she were being honest, but for the first time in her life, the one thing that a Veela could always rely on was entirely useless to her. Here she was, desiring a man, and knowing that nothing could make him lust after her. That the full might of her people, gathered from ancient times, could not and would never be able to make him desire her in that way.

Realizing this, Fleur resolved to win his heart through other methods, then had a panic attack as she realized she had no idea what those methods were.

What the hell is emotional intimacy anyway?

Harry Potter is a young novice wizard tasked to go on a quest to prove his worthiness by his mentor, Albus Dumbledore. At Dumbledore's request, a Knight from the Beauxbatons Academy of Chivalry is assigned as young Harry's escort. The knight, a young woman named Fleur Delacour, calls Harry a "Leettle Boy" when she first sees him. Determined to gain her friendship, Harry does everything he can to impress her, sometimes succeeding, mostly failing, much to the young woman's amusement. Until the day, Harry finishes his quest and nearly sacrifices himself for her, does Fleur realize that she has fallen in love with the "Leettle Boy"

2013, San Francisco: The first Kaiju attacks. 6 days, 35 miles, 3 cities, many dead, the beast was finally slain.

After the fourth one attacked, the world realized these things weren't going to stop. The world pooled its resources, the muggle and magical worlds put aside their resources for the sake of the greater good.

To fight monsters, the world created their own. The Jaegers, an unholy mixture of magic and machine.

Harry is an old Jaeger pilot. His drift pilot, his adopted brother, Ron was killed during his last drop. He woke up in the hospital feeling lost. He only left a card to Ron's wife, Hermione, a member of the research division, and left. He still wanted to help with the fight against the Kaiju and continued to help by working on the "Wall of Life". It was shortly after a Kaiju had just broken through a different part of the wall that a helicopter landed outside. Dumbledore had found him to drag him back into the life he had left.

Dumbledore takes him to the last Jaeger base in Hong Kong where he is putting together a last ditch effort to win. Among the personnel Dumbledore has collected he meets a man with a very green thumb, a surly Bulgarian, a blond git, a certain brunette he's dreading to face, and a pair of French Flowers.

In a world on the brink of destruction, how hard can it be to find love?

Due to how far this prompt deviates from canon, Harry could be paired with anyone, even OC's. Many people can work at the base, in non combative roles allowing for a wide cast. This could also deviate from the movie more than I have. I'm re-watching the movie before the series and this popped into my head.

Prompt: Harry and Fleur are flatmates after the Second Wizarding War. Fleur didnt marry Bill, and she and Harry are now sharing a flat as they go about life, with Harry doing an apprenticeship and Fleur working at Gringotts

It was Harry and Fleur’s anniversary and Fleur had, to Harry’s exasperation, insisted on a special roleplay. Of course, Harry was generally more than willing to indulge his wife’s more adventurous side, especially when the results looked to be so enticing. Unfortunately, he’d overlooked one minor detail. He was going to have to roleplay a bloody dark lord.

Or a sith, as the muggles called it. Fleur had recently gotten into the Star Wars series and dragged him along to watch. Harry always loved spending time with his wonderful wife, and honestly the movies had been good fun themselves. If he’d paid more attention however, he might have noticed the considering looks Fleur had started sending him. Which had led to his current predicament, with a robed Fleur chained up on the bed (good) and himself covered in dark, black robes (okay) saying a bunch of bunk about anger and hate and other such rubbish (not so good). Frankly, he felt like a tosser.

Noticing that his wife was starting to give him a bit of a stink eye after he’d perhaps rolled his eyes just a bit too much at the corny lines she’d given him, he sighed internally. Well, he supposed he had spent his formative years dealing with an actual dark lord, which made him as close to experienced as anyone he was aware of when it came to this sort of thing. He was just going to have to wing it.

In which Harry turns out to be far better at “sexy sith roleplay” than either of them were expecting.

Veela weren’t descended from moths.

Her wings were glorious and scaley, not colorful and soft. Never before had she been drawn towards a light to the exclusion of all else.

But his bare skin glittering in the midday light drew her as surely as if he was a flame and she the helpless bug. Instead, fire coiled in her belly and surged through her veins, propelling her over the not-quite-dry asphalt and over to the man hammering at a piece of wood; each swing an arc as perfect and golden as his skin.

Veela probably weren’t descended from moths.

He noticed her shortly before she tripped over him in her haste, so absorbed in his hammer and the metal triangle in his other hand. An arm made of corded muscle and taut skin drew sweat from his brow and the strength from her legs.

“You the inspector?”

And a voice of confident authority to boot. A question so full of commanding certainty that she could only nod and try to work some moisture back into her mouth.

Internally, she rallied, tearing her eyes from glistening skin and tried to focus on the waist-high piece of wood he had finished erecting. Pounding.

Nailing.

“Ma’am?”

She blinked, realizing too late that she had missed another question. Too late to go back now.

“What were you working on here?” She asked.

He blinked at her, brilliant green eyes vanishing for a moment behind his dusty glasses.

“The window,” he said after a moment, pointing to a frame she hadn’t noticed. “Just got the last jack stud in. We’ll be able to mount the window once it arrives, make sure it fits.”

“I know a jacked stud when I see one,” she murmured.

“Pardon?”

“Nice work on the jack stud.” She gestured to the narrow alcove they stood in and the larger space beyond. “And this is?”

The kitchen,” he answered slowly. He pointed to wires dangling from the ceiling. “We’re stil working on electrical. Lots of electricity in here. We’ve got to be careful and do it right.”

“Enough electricity to do me right.”

“What?”

She was saved having to make up another excuse by the arrival of a pudgy man in a hat, holding a clipboard.

“Just set it in the grass,” the shirtless carpenter said, pointing. “We’re not ready to put it on the pole yet.”

“Pretty sure it’s ready for the pole now,” she said, this time quietly enough not to be overheard.

Or at least she thought so.

“No,” he said slowly, eying her up and down. “It just went in the ground yesterday, it’s still too wet to support any weight. Besides, we need to finish running the pipe to the restrooms before we can get heavy machinery anywhere close.”

She licked her lips, unsure of where to even begin.

“You’re…not the inspector, are you?” He asked, his lips turning down into a frown.

She shook her head and grinned. “Why don’t you show me to the bedroom and I’ll let you inspect excactly how wet my ground is.”

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“Ma’am, this is a Wendy’s.”

Fleur and Harry are happily married, and spend their lives helping muggles in magicals in the most precarious of situations, skirting the statute of secrecy in increasingly comical ways as they continue bending the deceptions further and further so they can better help people. These increasingly tenuous excuses lead to them eventually negotiating the world's most ridiculous get-out-of-Azkaban free card: They will become the Muggle world's first real superheroes. They don new ridiculous spandex costumes, new names, and cut all visible ties with the rest of the Wizarding world to start saving the world as Mr. and Mrs. Firebird, the Fiery Heroes from Beyond the Stars.

This of course opens up a whole slew of complications, fake backstories, media attention, and ultimately an entire new way for Wizards to interact with the muggle world.

Potential scenes:

• Harry and Fleur frantically trying to remember details about their fake home planet while a Muggle news reporter gets increasingly skeptical that they're not actually confused amnesiacs
• Harry channeling all of his comic book knowledge in to ridiculous monologues and one-liners, and instantly getting one-upped by Fleur's seemingly supernatural ability to always have a cornier joke on hand.
• "No need to be alarmed citizen, where we come from, Spandex is fireproof!" cue Harry theatrically saluting the concerned citizen before leaping headlong into a burning building 
• Fleur receiving endless questions about why other planets also have a French accent
• Gabrielle Delacour joining in on the fun as the nefarious, ice-themed Empress of the Alps. Not because she's evil, but because she things conjuring mass quantities of snowballs is fun.

This one's pretty crack, but was inspired by the much more serious "Eat Your Heart Out Robinhood" by firefawn, where Daphne is part of a secret organization of wizards who mitigate the damage to Muggle areas during natural disasters.

Harry owns a small comic & collectables shop. Life is good, he has fun talking with fellow fans everyday, getting into nerdy debates and discussions. And one day something odd happens; an extremely hot woman enters his shop.

Now, this isn't that odd by itself, not all female nerds were dorky looking or ugly or unattractive, if anything, some were actually quiet beautiful. But this woman... this woman was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And the best part?

She was a bigger nerd than him!

He starts up a conversation, asking if she's looking for anything in particular. She tells him that she's here looking for a new series. He tries suggesting a few popular series, but is surprised to hear that she's read all of them, and is looking for something more obscure that she's never heard of before.

And boy does he have a recommendation; 'Veela, Space Princess', his all-time favorite series and heroine. He's worried at first, since the title Heroine wears a skimpy leather and metal bikini and was always drawn in pervasive angles, but he flips through the comic and becomes instantly interested, buying three volumes and leaves before thanking him again.

Weeks pass and Harry doesn't see her again, much to his dismay.

Over a month later, Harry attends his local Comic Con with his shop, having fun getting into more nerdy debates and discussions. And, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a beautiful woman dressed as his all-time favorite space princess, Veela. Deciding he needed to get a selfie with her, he goes up to her. Only to find the same beautiful woman he suggested the comic to months before.

And damn did she pull off the metal and leather bikini.

And if he wanted her to step on him with her six inch spiked heels, he wouldn't admit it. Nor would he tell you

She recognizes him, thanking him again for the recommendation. Telling him she read the entire series in a week. She explains she's a cosplayer on Instagram and YouTube. He gives her a follow, of course.

She was incredibly hot and a big nerd

A perfect combo.

The Con ends and they end up exchanging socials, determined to continue their nerdy talks and talk about new comic series.

A few weeks later Harry gets a text from Fleur if he has any ideas for characters for her to cosplay. And Harry, being a giant nerd, has several. So they end up hanging out at his shop that weekend talking about ideas until closing time. Just before she leaves, Fleur asks if he wants to come over tomorrow on his day off to help her sort through some ideas and maybe go to the craft and fabric store to get some supplies for a new cosplay. Harry easily agrees.

At her place, Harry discovers that due to her career, Fleur isn't shy about showing skin around him. She isn't flirting or trying anything, he knows, but a woman with a body like that should come with a warning when she walks around in from of him in short shorts and a loose tank top.

And, after making himself focus, he helps her with a new cosplay.

(no idea where this story would go from here, that's up to you. Maybe have Fleur develop feelings later on and they start dating? I've no idea. Started writing this after only 2 seconds of thought lol)

Gilderoy Lockhart couldn't remember much beyond how to read or speak. Not even his name. He was taken to St. Mungos where many experts attempted to salvage what they could but all said the erasure was done by a master whoever did it.

On the bright side he was still rather high functioning and managed to relearn many mundane spells within a few minutes. Due to his lack of memories he ended up basing his personality off of his books. He found it weird how the books failed to awaken any memories but he continued to emulate the Lockhart of the books the best he could.

He was released after a few months when he decided to go on a trip to follow the path of his old journeys in an attempt to remember something. He traveled far and wide meeting many from his books, who didn’t seem to remember him for some reason, and learned many obscure forms of magic. When he met someone that played a large part in his stories, he would give them some of the money he made from that book, believing it to be what the Lockhart from the books would do. He even accomplished a few more adventures that he would eventually publish as new stories.

He eventually returned to Britain after years abroad when he heard the Dark Lord Voldemort had returned. As the great Gilderoy Lockhart he knew it was his responsibility to stand against evil as an honorary member of the “Dark Force Defence League”. Their battle was fierce and he even lost his dominant arm, but he succeeded in vanquishing Voldemort. He wanted to write about his new tales abroad as well as his defeat of Voldemort but he was missing his dominant arm, so he hired a scribe. She had wonderful handwriting, beautiful blue eyes, hair as dark as midnight, and she always wore a splendid gold necklace. Her name was Emily Riddle. She was the only scribe he tried that didn’t shudder at the name Voldemort. In fact, she would giggle and her eyes would gain this gleam as if she heard a joke whenever the name came up.

Over the course of their contract they fell in love and eventually married. Going on a few more adventures around the world, uncovering lost magic, before settling down and living off the money made from their books. A few years into retirement, Emily would go on to teach DADA at Hogwarts something she admitted she always wanted to do much to their children’s collective horror.

Minerva McGonagall paced irritably up and down a quarter of the street, passing back and forth before three houses on repeat. Her tail twitched to and fro, her whiskers jerked in time, and all of it expressed her supreme disbelief. A few of the muggle inhabitants had surely noticed the odd behaviour of the cat, which had turned up this morning and lingered in the street all day, most unusually. Few continued to pay her mind though, unbeknownst to them the charms she cast upon herself made it hard for muggles to focus on her for long.

It wasn't until long after the sun went down that her long vigil paid off. With a soft pop a solitary robed figure appeared in the street across from number four. The cat darted toward it, transforming mid stride into a strict woman in similar robes. "What are you thinking Dumbledore?" She bit out by way of greeting.

6 years later

Petunia Dursley was conflicted. Ever since leaving Britain she'd done her best to maintain her house to the standards their new home country demanded. She studied up on all the French recipes, practiced her pronunciations, and on the whole gave none of the neighbours anything to gossip about when they had them round for tea or dinner. It didn't come easy, and at times she was befuddled as to how her life had ended up like this. But when opportunity comes a-knocking, as they say, and this particular opportunity came affixed with a few extra zeros. Opinions of the French as a whole aside, she'd done her best to make this place home and was rather pleased with her successes as they were. Which led her to this very moment, with some strange French woman sitting at her dining room table and talking about some 'special program' for Lilly's boy. On the one hand, she did not want any more attention drawn to him, or her family for that matter, and she had trouble understanding why he of all people had been selected for it. On the other hand the woman had said something about tax benefits, what with Dudders studying abroad back home in England and the Potter boy being taken out of public school should they approve of it.

"I would have to speak with my husband about it." She said by way of deflection, to give herself more time to think. "You said he was referred to you because of behavioral problems?"

She said this resolutely in English. Her rather paltry attempts at French were reserved for the neighbours and wives of Vernon's closer work associates. Those, in short, who's opinions actually matter. It was clear that in Petunia's mind, as this woman was an intruder in her house and far more importantly was here regarding Harry, her opinion did not matter in the slightest.

The woman, to her credit, gave no outward sign that she was offended by Petunia's intentionally off-putting demeanor. She answered in near flawless English that even Vernon would struggle to find something to scoff at.

"Yes as I said, we believe young Potter would be a better fit for this school than the one he currently attends." She had not, in fact, implied at all that Harry's behavior was the reason they were interested in him. But Petunia had immediately come to this conclusion on her own, and the French witch had done nothing to disavow her of this. She reached across the table and took back the emerald folder she'd slid toward the muggle woman when it became clear she had no intention of looking through it. It mattered little, it contained nothing but lies anyway.

"And it won't cost us anything?" Petunia asked again, looking down her haughty nose at the woman. She tried to at least, it was rather difficult when they were both seated.

"Non- no." She corrected herself, using the English denial. "There are scholarships in place to cover it, and as I said, without a child in public schools we can work to have your taxes adjusted accordingly."

"I'll have to discuss it with my husband." Petunia deflected again, but she knew that Vernon would be sold on the decreased tax bill alone. "Will he go and live on campus then? I'll not be carting him into Paris every morning and picking him up in that traffic!" She said waspishly.

"Transportation can be arranged, it is no issue." She said briskly. She was a professional diplomat, a seasoned veteran of the magical French government, and even she found it difficult to contain her distaste for this wretched English woman. It was becoming rather clear she would not be getting an answer during this visit, which was a shame because she did not relish the necessity for a second trip to the Dursley house.

"Very well." She concluded before Petunia could respond, ready to be done with all this. "If I could just see the boy for a second, I have some information for him, and then I'll return next weekend after you've had a chance to discuss things." Petunia looked like she was trying to chew and swallow her own tongue as she warred with herself. She did not want to go and get him, she did not really like the sound of all this. However the potential benefits seemed nice, and she seemed to decide that they outweighed her misgivings. If only just for now, at least. She stood from the little table and gave a jerky nod of the head.

"Alright, wait here then," She said and turned, not to the hall toward the stairs, but rather to the back door out the kitchen. The French witch could see out a garden window, Petunia, crossing the yard. She went to the little shed along the back fence. It was built, like the house, from irregular stone held together with mortar in the style of old medieval cottages, though she knew this suburb was much more recently erected. She assumed it was some sort of playhouse for the children until the door was opened and a scrawny boy with messy hair and ratty clothes far too big for him exited. In the brief moment she could see inside she glimpsed a little bed, barely big enough to fit the room, and a pile of clothes on the ground.

Her pristine demeanor shattered, and she only just managed to get her rage and indignation back under wraps before the two of them entered the kitchen once more. "This woman wants to have a word with you." Petunia barked when the boy was presented before her.

"Bonjour madame." Harry Potter said, in surprisingly adept French, she had not expected it after dealing with this Dursley woman.

"Bonjour, Harry." She responded, switching to French and managing to smile down at him despite her now foul mood. "Je m'appelle Margot Monet." He did not quite meet her eyes, his whole demeanor seemed to radiate meekness, like he was trying to convince you he wasn't actually there. "I was just talking to your aunt here about inviting you to attend our school." She spoke a little faster than perhaps necessary, testing his French out of personal curiosity more than anything. His eyes flicked up to her face, and he seemed to find it acceptably warm and friendly for he finally turned his head up to face her fully. "Would that be something you think you would be interested in?"

The English woman seemed rather put out by all this French being spoken in her kitchen, though Margot got the impression she could at least follow their conversation. The little boy before her nodded hesitantly and she redoubled her warm smile, trying to convey her intentions to the boy through it. Oh she would be having harsh words with the president about this.

After basically dying twice from the killing curse Harry is impotent. Fleur leaves him because she wants children. He lives by himself and is a broken man, watching the families of his friends grow up. Always on the periphery. Always alone. He tells himself he will be a good uncle, a good godfather, but all he has ever wanted was a family to call his own. Over the decades he pulls away, slowly but surely. When he does, it takes weeks before anyone even thinks to ask “where is Harry?” When he dies, the asphyxiating, oppressive solitary confinement of his life crushes his chest to smithereens. He feels his end creeping upon him so he goes to the place he associates the most with the feeling weighing upon him. Harry Potter, age 89, dies in the cupboard under the stairs of Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Veelas, Sirens, Dryads, Nymphs, Rusalki, Lake Maidens, Glaistigs and many more, all-female races one and all, have united in the face of muggles’ expansion and the wizards’ secrecy. They manipulate, lobby and subvert, trying to ensure that their races not only survive and continue into the next generation, but also thrive.

To achieve that, they need a steady supply of men of character, integrity and strength. Magical power is preferable too. In every magical school there are scouts on the lookout for young men that look promising.

Harry Potter seems to be a promising candidate, despite his unfortunate upbringing. The Tri-Wizard tournament was meant to be used as a chance to establish contact with him. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang include young, promising women, chosen for their desirable attributes and willingness to enter into a relationship with the young man, to convert him to the cause, so to speak.

His entry into the competition complicates matters, a sure sign of somebody else having designs on Harry Potter. And the situation is even more complicated by the fact that he has eyes for the Ravenclaw seeker Cho Chang.

Harry Potter thought that Fleur Delacour was a snob from the first time he met her. The way she talked, moved, even dressed all screamed old money and filthy rich. Still, during the tournament they had grown to be friends

His other friends, and he as well, often saw snide intentions behind Fleur’s mannerisms, affected speech, ostentatious affection, and lavish gifts, thinking that she was subtly and not so subtly mocking them for being poor in comparison.

Even so, following a case of devastatingly effective puppy dog eyes from both Fleur and Gabrielle, Harry went to attend a soirée at Fleur’s family’s opulent home. Of course there had to be a smug Malfoy cousin or other who not only mocked Harry for the unforgivable crime of being both British and poor, but he also “accidentally” spilled his wine all over Harry’s jacket and shirt.

Horrified, Fleur assured Harry she would provide him with new clothes, asking him for preferences. He jokingly made a reference to an outfit featuring furs, brocade, golden chains and jewels.

Imagine his surprise when, during his next visit to Fleur’s home, she led him to a wardrobe full of the most luxurious brocade outfits fit for a duke.

Seeing his disbelieving expression, she fretted.

“Mon dieu, you don’t like eet? Ah, don’t worry, I’ll get you better clothes, mon ami.”

A rich/noble Fleur AU where Fleur is also a total cinnamon bun, but misunderstandings happen. Cue shenanigans?