**Côte d'Azur, France - International Portkey Terminal**
The world reassembled itself around Harry with the sort of aggressive cheerfulness that suggested reality was slightly offended at having been temporarily dissolved and was now overcompensating with excessive color saturation. He found himself standing on a marble platform that gleamed like polished moonstone, surrounded by Mediterranean sunshine so brilliant it made Hogwarts' weather seem like a perpetual funeral dirge.
The transition from magical transportation to solid ground proved remarkably smooth—his enhanced reflexes automatically adjusting his balance while his transformed physiology absorbed the dimensional displacement without so much as a moment's disorientation. Around him, the French magical terminal bustled with the sort of cosmopolitan efficiency that made even the Ministry of Magic look provincial by comparison.
"Well," Harry observed, straightening his robes with unconscious elegance while taking in the surrounding architectural splendor, "that was considerably more pleasant than advertised. Though I suspect my enhanced constitution might be providing certain advantages over the typical Portkey experience."
Dumbledore materialized beside him with the fluid grace of someone for whom international magical travel was as routine as morning tea, not even a hair of his long silver beard disturbed by their journey across half of Europe. His blue eyes were already scanning the terminal with the practiced assessment of someone who had navigated countless foreign magical facilities.
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, consulting his pocket watch with satisfaction. "Precisely on schedule, perfectly positioned, and remarkably elegant in execution. French magical infrastructure has always possessed a certain... sophistication that sets it apart from British pragmatism."
Harry had to admit the man had a point. Where British magical architecture favored imposing stonework and intimidating grandeur, the French terminal embraced flowing curves and harmonious proportions that somehow managed to be both impressive and welcoming. Enchanted fountains provided gentle background music, the air carried hints of lavender and sea salt, and even the customs officials looked like they'd been selected for their ability to conduct bureaucratic procedures with actual style.
"Mr. Potter, I presume?"
The voice carried the sort of refined accent that suggested expensive education and considerable worldly experience. Harry turned to see a tall, distinguished wizard approaching with the confident stride of someone completely comfortable in his own skin. The man appeared to be in his forties, with the kind of understated elegance that spoke of genuine sophistication rather than mere wealth—dark hair touched with silver at the temples, intelligent dark eyes that missed nothing, and robes that probably cost more than most wizards earned in a year while still managing to look practical rather than ostentatious.
"Sebastian Delacour," the man introduced himself with a slight bow that managed to be both formal and genuinely warm. "It is a pleasure to finally meet the famous Harry Potter, though I confess the reports of your recent transformation barely prepared me for the reality."
Harry found himself instinctively straightening to his full enhanced height, unconsciously adopting the sort of posture that suggested both respect and quiet confidence. "Mr. Delacour," he replied with a slight nod that carried exactly the right degree of acknowledgment. "Thank you for agreeing to host me this summer. I realize my situation presents... unique challenges."
Sebastian's expression grew genuinely amused, his dark eyes twinkling with something that reminded Harry of Dumbledore's more benevolent moments. "Unique challenges are something of a family specialty, Mr. Potter. When one's wife and daughters are full Veela, one learns to adapt to circumstances that defy conventional expectations."
He gestured toward the terminal's exit with graceful efficiency. "Shall we proceed? Apolline is most eager to meet you, and the girls have been speculating about your abilities for days. I fear Gabrielle has prepared what amounts to a comprehensive interview regarding your draconic characteristics."
"Wonderful," Harry murmured, his enhanced hearing picking up the subtle amusement in his own voice. "Nothing quite like arriving at a new home to face a detailed magical creature examination by a ten-year-old. I'm sure that won't be awkward at all."
Sebastian's laugh carried genuine warmth rather than mere politeness. "I suspect you'll find Gabrielle's curiosity refreshingly direct compared to the careful political maneuvering typically required in wizarding social interactions. She has never learned to pretend disinterest when something genuinely fascinates her."
As they walked through the terminal's elegant corridors, Harry became increasingly aware of the attention his presence was generating. His enhanced senses picked up whispered conversations in rapid French, magical signatures shifting with surprise and curiosity, and the unmistakable sensation of being examined by people trying very hard to appear casual about their interest.
"Is it always like this?" he asked Sebastian quietly, noting the way conversations paused as they passed and resumed in hushed tones once they'd moved beyond easy hearing range.
"The attention?" Sebastian's expression grew understanding. "Harry, you must realize that your reputation precedes you considerably. 'The Boy Who Lived' is famous throughout the magical world, not merely in Britain. Add rumors of a draconic inheritance and unprecedented magical transformation..." He shrugged with Gallic practicality. "Naturally, people are curious."
"Naturally," Harry agreed with dry humor. "Though I have to admit, the French seem considerably more subtle about their staring than most British wizards manage. There's something to be said for continental sophistication."
They emerged into the brilliant Mediterranean sunshine, and Harry immediately felt his enhanced physiology respond positively to the increased warmth and light. His body temperature, which had been running consistently higher since his transformation, seemed to settle into perfect equilibrium with the climate. For the first time in weeks, he felt completely comfortable in his own skin.
"The climate agrees with you," Sebastian observed, clearly noting Harry's improved posture and relaxed expression. "Draconic heritage typically responds well to warmer temperatures and abundant sunshine. You may find your abilities easier to control here than they were in Scotland's perpetual dampness."
A sleek carriage waited at the terminal's entrance—though 'carriage' hardly did justice to what appeared to be a masterpiece of magical engineering that combined classical elegance with contemporary innovation. The vehicle gleamed like polished obsidian, drawn by what Harry's enhanced vision immediately identified as winged horses whose coats shimmered with pearl-like iridescence.
"Abraxan," Sebastian explained, following Harry's gaze with evident pride. "Bred specifically for comfort and speed over long distances. The journey to our home will take approximately thirty minutes—enough time for you to adjust to the local magical atmosphere without becoming restless."
Harry approached the magnificent creatures with instinctive confidence, his transformed nature apparently creating an immediate rapport with magical animals. The lead Abraxan turned to regard him with intelligent golden eyes, then lowered its great head in what could only be described as a greeting between equals.
"Extraordinary," Sebastian breathed, watching the interaction with obvious fascination. "Abraxan are typically quite particular about whom they acknowledge. They respond to magical power, certainly, but more importantly to... intent, I suppose. The quality of one's character."
Harry ran a hand along the creature's neck, feeling the warmth of its coat and the subtle thrum of its magical nature. "They're magnificent," he said simply, genuine appreciation clear in his voice. "I can see why you chose them."
As they settled into the carriage's luxuriously appointed interior, Harry felt another surge of that unfamiliar sensation he was learning to identify as uncomplicated anticipation. The leather seats were soft as silk, the windows provided perfect views of the French countryside rolling past, and for once in his life, he was traveling toward something he genuinely wanted rather than away from something he feared.
"Tell me about your family," Harry requested as they began their journey through landscapes that looked like illustrations from expensive travel books. "I'd prefer to avoid any significant cultural misunderstandings during my first dinner."
Sebastian's smile suggested he appreciated the diplomatic approach. "Apolline is..." he paused, clearly searching for adequate words. "She is extraordinary in ways that extend far beyond her Veela heritage, though that certainly contributes to the overall effect. Beautiful, naturally, but also fiercely intelligent, absolutely devoted to our daughters' wellbeing, and possessed of the sort of protective instincts that would make a nesting dragon seem mild-mannered."
Harry grinned at the description. "So she's formidable. I can work with formidable. What about your daughters?"
"Fleur is fifteen, currently preparing for advanced magical competitions, and somewhat... proud, I suppose, in the way that many young Veela tend to be during their adolescence. She has very little patience for weakness or incompetence, and can be rather dismissive of those she perceives as beneath her standards."
"And Gabrielle?"
Sebastian's expression grew genuinely fond. "Gabrielle is ten, insatiably curious about absolutely everything, and completely unconstrained by the sort of social filters that usually prevent children from asking potentially embarrassing questions. She will want to know everything about your transformation, your abilities, your experiences, and probably your opinions on French cuisine, British weather, and the relative merits of dragons versus phoenixes as magical creatures."
Harry considered this information thoughtfully. "So I should prepare for probing interrogation by a precocious ten-year-old, potential dismissal by a proud fifteen-year-old, and protective evaluation by a fierce Veela mother. That actually sounds considerably more manageable than my usual social challenges."
"Your usual social challenges involve something more complex than navigating family dynamics?"
Harry's smile took on a distinctly sardonic edge. "My usual social challenges involve people either wanting to worship me for surviving things that should have killed me, or wanting to murder me for political reasons beyond my control. Compared to that, a family dinner with people who simply want to determine whether I'm worthy of their time and effort seems positively relaxing."
Sebastian studied him with the sort of thoughtful assessment that suggested he was rapidly revising his initial impressions. "You know, Harry, I suspect you're going to fit in with our household considerably better than any of us anticipated."
---
**Château Delacour - Approaching the Estate**
The carriage crested a hill, and Harry's first glimpse of the Delacour family home made him understand why Sebastian had used the word 'château' rather than simply 'house.' The estate sprawled across a hillside overlooking the Mediterranean with the sort of elegant grandeur that suggested centuries of accumulated wealth and impeccable taste.
The main building combined classical French architecture with subtle magical enhancements—towers that rose just slightly higher than physics should have allowed, gardens that bloomed with impossible variety despite the season, and an overall sense of harmony that spoke of magic integrated so seamlessly with mundane construction that the result transcended both.
"Good Lord," Harry murmured, taking in the scope of the property with genuine amazement. "This isn't a home, it's practically a small city. How many people live here?"
"Just the four of us," Sebastian replied with evident amusement at Harry's reaction. "Though we do maintain guest quarters, staff accommodations, and extensive facilities for magical research and training. Privacy and space are essential when managing powerful magical auras—both for the comfort of the family and the safety of visitors."
The Abraxan descended toward a courtyard paved with what appeared to be white marble veined with silver, landing with the sort of graceful precision that made Harry appreciate the skill required for magical creature handling at this level. As they settled to the ground, Harry's enhanced senses immediately detected multiple magical signatures approaching—three distinctly different auras that carried power, sophistication, and unmistakable feminine energy.
"Right," Harry said, straightening his robes and checking that his suppression bracelet was properly positioned. "Time to meet the legendary Delacour women. Any final advice for surviving first impressions?"
Sebastian's expression grew genuinely sympathetic. "Be yourself, Harry. Completely and authentically yourself. Veela can sense insincerity from considerable distances, and they have absolutely no patience for false charm or artificial courtesy. If you attempt to be anything other than exactly who you are, they'll know immediately and respond... unfavorably."
"Be myself," Harry repeated thoughtfully. "Well, that's either the best advice I've ever received or a recipe for complete disaster. With my luck, probably both simultaneously."
The château's main doors opened with perfect timing, revealing three figures that immediately commanded Harry's complete attention. Even through his suppression bracelet, the combined presence of three full Veela created an atmosphere that made the air itself seem more vivid, more alive, charged with the sort of power that made Harry's enhanced senses sing with recognition.
The woman who stepped forward first had to be Apolline Delacour, and Harry immediately understood why Sebastian's description had emphasized her extraordinary nature beyond mere Veela heritage. She possessed beauty that seemed to rewrite fundamental assumptions about what human features could achieve—silver-blonde hair that moved like liquid starlight, eyes the color of sapphires that held depths of intelligence and warmth, and a presence that filled the courtyard despite her elegant, understated approach.
But it was her magical signature that truly impressed Harry. Beneath the Veela allure—which he could sense but remained unaffected by, thanks to his bracelet—lay power that rivaled anything he'd encountered. This was a witch who could probably reshape reality through force of will alone, though she carried that potential with the sort of effortless grace that suggested she'd never felt the need to prove her capabilities to anyone.
"You must be Harry," she said, her voice carrying a French accent that somehow managed to make his name sound more interesting than it had ever seemed before. "Welcome to our home. I am Apolline."
Her greeting carried genuine warmth rather than mere politeness, and when she extended her hand, Harry took it with a slight bow that felt both respectful and appropriately formal without being excessive.
"Madame Delacour," he replied, his voice carrying that unconscious authority his transformation had gifted him. "Thank you for agreeing to host me. I realize my circumstances present unique challenges, and I'm grateful for your family's willingness to help."
Apolline's smile suggested she was already forming favorable impressions. "Unique circumstances are what make life interesting, Harry. I suspect we shall find your visit both educational and entertaining."
The young woman who approached next had to be Fleur, and Harry immediately understood Sebastian's warnings about pride. At fifteen, she already possessed her mother's supernatural beauty, though where Apolline radiated mature elegance, Fleur carried herself with the sort of regal bearing that suggested she'd never doubted her own superiority for a single moment of her life.
Her silver-blonde hair caught the Mediterranean sunlight like spun gold, her blue eyes held the sort of cool assessment typically reserved for evaluating potential threats or competitors, and her overall demeanor suggested she was prepared to find Harry wanting unless he proved otherwise through immediate demonstration of worthiness.
"So," she said, her accent slightly stronger than her mother's, her voice carrying the particular tone of someone conducting an important evaluation, "you are ze famous Harry Potter who 'as become part dragon. I 'ope you prove more interesting than your reputation suggests."
Harry's smile sharpened into something that could have cut glass, his voice taking on that aristocratic edge that suggested he was entirely comfortable with challenges to his adequacy. "Mademoiselle Delacour," he replied with perfect courtesy that somehow managed to carry an undertone of subtle challenge, "I suspect we'll find each other considerably more interesting than either of us currently anticipates."
Fleur's eyes narrowed slightly, though Harry caught the hint of intrigued approval in her expression. Apparently, she respected people who declined to be intimidated by her initial assessment.
The youngest member of the family practically bounced forward with the sort of irrepressible energy that made it immediately clear why Sebastian had warned about comprehensive interrogations. Gabrielle Delacour possessed the same family beauty in miniature, but where her mother radiated sophisticated warmth and her sister projected aristocratic evaluation, Gabrielle vibrated with pure, unconstrained curiosity.
"'Arry Potter!" she exclaimed, her young voice bright with excitement and completely free of the careful reserve typical in formal introductions. "You 'ave really become part dragon? Papa says you can breathe fire and 'ave super strength and can 'ear conversations from very far away! Is it true? Can you show us? Do you 'ave scales? Can you fly? Are you going to grow wings?"
The questions tumbled out with the rapid-fire enthusiasm of someone who had been storing up inquiries for days and could no longer contain her scholarly excitement.
Harry found himself genuinely charmed by her direct approach, his formal demeanor shifting to something considerably warmer and more accessible. "Gabrielle," he said, his voice taking on the sort of gentle humor that suggested he was delighted rather than overwhelmed by her curiosity, "those are excellent questions. And yes, some of those things are true, though the flying part remains theoretical at best."
"Which parts are true?" she pressed, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Harry glanced at Sebastian and Apolline, both of whom were watching this interaction with evident amusement and what looked like approval.
"Well," Harry said, settling into the role of someone explaining interesting facts to an eager student, "the enhanced hearing is definitely true—I can currently detect at least three separate conversations happening inside your château, plus what sounds like house-elves discussing dinner preparations. The strength part is also accurate, though I'm still learning to control it properly. And yes, I've managed to produce actual flames on a few occasions, though nothing dramatic enough to qualify as proper dragon fire."
Gabrielle's eyes went wide with delight. "That is amazing! You must tell me everything about 'ow it feels and what it was like when it 'appened and—"
"Gabrielle," Apolline interrupted gently, though her voice carried unmistakable maternal authority, "perhaps we should allow Harry to settle in before subjecting 'im to your complete magical creature questionnaire, non?"
The young girl looked momentarily disappointed, then brightened with renewed enthusiasm. "Of course, Maman! But later, you will answer all my questions?"
Harry's grin became genuinely warm. "Gabrielle, I promise to answer every single one of your questions, in as much detail as you want, just as soon as I've had a chance to properly meet your family and perhaps change out of traveling robes."
"Excellent!" She clapped her hands with satisfaction. "I 'ave prepared a list!"
"Naturally you 'ave," Fleur said dryly, though Harry caught the affectionate exasperation in her voice that suggested this sort of scholarly preparation was typical for her younger sister.
Sebastian gestured toward the château's entrance with practiced hospitality. "Shall we proceed inside? I believe Harry would benefit from seeing his quarters and perhaps enjoying some refreshment before we begin the more formal aspects of his visit."
As they walked toward the imposing front doors, Harry felt that same sense of anticipation that had been building since leaving Hogwarts. The Delacour family was exactly as advertised—formidable, sophisticated, and possessed of the sort of casual elegance that came from centuries of accumulated power and breeding. But they were also genuinely welcoming, intellectually curious, and apparently quite capable of treating him as an interesting individual rather than simply as a famous name with convenient abilities.
For the first time since his transformation had begun, Harry felt like he might actually be in the right place at exactly the right time.
And as they crossed the threshold into what would be his home for the next few months, Harry Potter allowed himself to believe that this particular adventure might actually turn out better than any of his previous impossible situations.
The entrance hall soared three stories above them, filled with light from crystal chandeliers that seemed to capture and amplify the Mediterranean sunshine streaming through tall windows. Portraits lined the walls—not the gossiping, mobile paintings of Hogwarts, but elegant formal works that suggested generations of distinguished ancestors. The overall effect was impressive without being intimidating, welcoming without sacrificing dignity.
"Your home is beautiful," Harry said to Apolline, genuine appreciation clear in his voice as he took in the harmonious blend of classical architecture and subtle magical enhancements.
"Merci," she replied, her smile suggesting she was pleased by his reaction. "It 'as been in Sebastian's family for many generations, though I 'ave added certain... personal touches over ze years. A 'ome should reflect ze people who live in it, non?"
Harry nodded agreement, already sensing the magical signatures that permeated the château—protective wards so sophisticated they made Hogwarts' security seem primitive by comparison, environmental charms that maintained perfect comfort throughout the seasons, and underlying enchantments that suggested this place had been designed as a sanctuary for powerful magical beings who needed both privacy and safety.
"Come," Apolline continued, gesturing toward an elegant staircase that curved upward with architectural grace, "let me show you to your rooms. You will 'ave your own suite—bedroom, sitting area, private bath—with balcony overlooking ze gardens and ze sea. I thought you might appreciate ze space and privacy while you adjust to our 'ome."
As they climbed the stairs, Gabrielle maintained a steady stream of questions and observations that showcased both her irrepressible curiosity and her genuinely impressive understanding of magical theory for someone her age.
"Papa says that draconic inheritance is extremely rare," she chattered, keeping pace with Harry despite her shorter legs, "and that most 'istorical cases involved only minor changes—enhanced strength, improved senses, slight increase in magical capacity. But your transformation sounds much more dramatic! 'Ave you experienced any physical changes beyond improved 'eight and muscle development? Any alterations to your magical signature? Do you find yourself drawn to warm places or experiencing changes in dietary preferences?"
Harry exchanged an amused glance with Sebastian, who shrugged with the resigned expression of a father who had long since learned that attempting to moderate his daughter's scholarly enthusiasm was a losing battle.
"Those are remarkably sophisticated questions, Gabrielle," Harry said, genuinely impressed by her theoretical understanding. "And yes, most of those changes have occurred to some degree. Though I have to admit, the dietary changes have been the most immediately noticeable—I'm eating roughly three times as much as I used to, and I find myself craving foods I never particularly enjoyed before."
"What sorts of foods?" Gabrielle pressed, her eyes bright with scientific interest.
"More protein, spicier flavors, things that are cooked at higher temperatures," Harry replied thoughtfully. "And oddly enough, I've developed a complete aversion to anything sweet, which is rather unfortunate since I used to love treacle tart."
"Fascinating!" Gabrielle exclaimed. "That suggests your enhanced metabolism requires more efficient fuel sources, while ze preference for 'ot, spicy foods probably correlates with your developing fire abilities. Ze aversion to sweet things makes perfect sense—dragons are carnivores by nature, and excess sugar would interfere with their natural digestive processes!"
Fleur turned to regard her sister with something approaching respect. "You 'ave been researching, 'aven't you?"
Gabrielle's chin lifted with obvious pride. "Of course I 'ave been researching! 'Ow often does one get ze opportunity to meet someone experiencing such a rare magical transformation? I 'ave read every text in Papa's library about draconic characteristics, magical creature inheritance, and aura manipulation techniques."
"Every text?" Sebastian asked with mild alarm.
"Well," Gabrielle hedged slightly, "every text I could reach. Some of ze 'igher shelves remain unexplored."
Apolline's laughter carried the sort of warm amusement that suggested this level of academic enthusiasm was both typical and somewhat concerning. "We shall 'ave to ensure ze more advanced volumes remain on ze 'igher shelves until you are older, ma petite."
They reached the second floor, and Apolline led them down a corridor lined with tall windows that provided spectacular views of the Mediterranean coastline. The afternoon light streaming through the glass made everything seem to glow with golden warmth, and Harry felt his enhanced physiology respond positively to the increased illumination.
"'Ere we are," Apolline announced, opening an ornate door with obvious satisfaction. "Your suite for ze summer."
Harry stepped inside and immediately understood why she'd looked pleased. The rooms were spectacular—high ceilings with exposed wooden beams, tall windows that opened onto a stone balcony overlooking terraced gardens and the sparkling sea beyond, furniture that managed to be both elegant and comfortable, and an overall atmosphere of sophisticated comfort that made even Hogwarts' finery seem austere by comparison.
"This is extraordinary," Harry said, genuine amazement clear in his voice as he took in the spacious sitting area, the comfortable bedroom visible through an archway, and the private bathroom that appeared to feature a bathtub large enough for small swimming exercises. "Madame Delacour, this is far more than I expected or deserve."
"Nonsense," Apolline replied firmly, her voice carrying the sort of practical authority that suggested she would brook no argument on the subject. "You are our guest, and guests should be comfortable. Besides," she added with a slight smile, "Sebastian tells me that your magical aura, even when suppressed, can be somewhat... overwhelming in close quarters. Ze extra space will benefit everyone involved."
Harry's expression grew rueful as he was reminded of his primary reason for being here. "Right. The aura situation. I suppose we should discuss that sooner rather than later?"
"Indeed we should," Apolline agreed, settling into one of the sitting area's comfortable chairs with graceful efficiency. "But first, tell me 'ow ze suppression bracelet is working for you. Any discomfort? Unusual sensations? Difficulty accessing your normal magical abilities?"
Harry looked down at the silver artifact around his wrist, which had been so unobtrusive during the journey that he'd almost forgotten its presence. "Actually, it's been remarkable. For the first time since my transformation began, I feel... balanced, I suppose. The constant sense of power pressing against my control is completely gone, though I can still sense the magic underneath the suppression field."
Fleur leaned forward with obvious interest, her earlier cool assessment shifting toward genuine curiosity. "Ze bracelet is quite sophisticated—it was created by ze finest magical artificers in France, specifically for managing powerful auras without completely severing ze connection to one's magical core. Most suppression devices either fail to contain strong magical signatures or cut ze user off from their abilities entirely."
"Which would be catastrophic in your case," Sebastian added, settling into a chair across from Harry with the air of someone preparing for a serious consultation. "Your magical core has apparently tripled in capacity since your transformation. Complete disconnection from that much power could cause permanent damage or possibly magical core collapse."
Harry felt a chill despite the Mediterranean warmth. "Magical core collapse sounds like something to be avoided at all costs."
"Indeed," Apolline said with the sort of maternal firmness that suggested she would personally prevent such an outcome through sheer force of will if necessary. "Which is why we must begin your training immediately. Ze bracelet will allow you to practice control techniques safely, but it is not a permanent solution. Eventually, you must learn to manage your abilities naturally."
Gabrielle, who had been listening to this exchange with obvious fascination, suddenly bounced in her chair with excitement. "Maman, can we show 'im ze training facilities? And ze aura practice chambers? And ze library with all ze books about magical creature abilities?"
Apolline's expression grew amused. "Gabrielle, 'Arry 'as only just arrived. Perhaps we should allow 'im to rest and settle in before beginning ze comprehensive tour of educational facilities?"
"Actually," Harry interjected, surprising himself with his own enthusiasm, "I'd quite like to see the training facilities. I've been wondering what proper aura control training would look like, and I confess I'm curious about your library's collection of magical creature texts."
Gabrielle practically glowed with delight. "Excellent! Ze training rooms are amazing—they 'ave variable magical resistance fields, projected target systems, environmental simulation chambers, and specialized containment areas for practicing dangerous abilities safely!"
Harry's eyebrows rose with genuine interest. "That sounds considerably more sophisticated than Hogwarts' training facilities. Though to be fair, most of our Defense Against the Dark Arts practice has involved either theoretical lectures or actual life-threatening situations, with very little middle ground."
"Ze middle ground," Apolline said with evident satisfaction, "is exactly what we specialize in 'ere. Controlled practice in safe environments, gradual skill development, and proper theoretical understanding before attempting practical application."
Fleur stood with fluid grace, her posture suggesting she'd reached some sort of decision about Harry's worthiness of her attention. "Come," she said, her voice carrying less coolness and more genuine interest, "'e can see ze facilities while we discuss 'is training schedule. If 'e is truly part dragon now, 'is education will require considerable planning and expertise."
As they prepared to leave the comfortable suite, Harry felt another surge of that increasingly familiar anticipation. The Delacour family possessed exactly the sort of sophisticated approach to magical education that he'd been hoping for—comprehensive, theoretical, and practical all at once. More importantly, they seemed to view his unprecedented transformation as an interesting challenge rather than an insurmountable problem.
For someone who had spent most of his magical education lurching from crisis to crisis with minimal guidance, the prospect of structured, expert instruction felt like an extraordinary luxury.
And as they walked back through the château's elegant corridors toward whatever training facilities awaited, Harry Potter found himself genuinely excited about beginning the next phase of his impossible education.
---
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