"The Root of Allure"
"So, today it's your turn," Wanda said calmly, watching the student who had just entered the Special Magic classroom.
In the entire academy there were barely twenty students with that kind of magic, born with mixed bloodlines from half-humans or even bearing the heritage of magical creatures. Each one possessed unique abilities that, while astonishing, were also dangerous and difficult to control. Some had awakened recessive genes from distant ancestors, others carried gifts so intense that not even their own families could guide them.
The more powerful the talent, the more unstable it became. And still, they were students: they needed to learn, to coexist, to grow. That was why the Special Magic class had been created, with Beauxbatons hiring the best instructors, both theoretical and practical, to teach the young ones to master their gifts.
The previous year, they had worked with a brilliant scholar in hybrid genetics. A genius, yes, but only in theory. When he tried to help Fleur control her power, he ended up under the effect of her allure himself, nearly attacking her. Fortunately, nothing serious happened: Fleur usually attended with her cousin Luciel, since Delacour blood granted a natural resistance to attraction magic.
But this time Luciel wasn't needed. Both Fleur and Wanda knew that the Scarlet Witch had no rival in terms of resistance or power. In fact, Wanda's name as the most feared witch in England had already begun spreading through the halls of Beauxbatons.
"Hello again," Fleur greeted politely, though a faint blush colored her cheeks. The first time they had met, Wanda had caught her trying to charm Harry… without success.
"It's fine, don't be nervous," Wanda replied with a serene smile, seated behind her desk in the role of professor. "Tell me, what's your problem?"
"Well…" Fleur lowered her gaze, her voice barely more than a soft murmur. "According to my grandmother—she's a Veela—my problem is more psychological. I can't stop my power on my own. The first time it awoke… I was out shopping with my mother. Suddenly the entire street fell into chaos: men and women tried to drag me away by force. Since then… I've been afraid to leave the house."
Her voice trembled for a moment, but she steadied herself.
"Madame Maxime asked for help from Mr. Flamel, and he made this bracelet for me. With it, I was able to go out again without problems."
"I see." Wanda tilted her head, her eyes glinting with interest. "Take off the bracelet."
"Now?" Fleur hesitated. The last time a teacher had asked her that, she had almost been attacked. Yet Wanda's presence was different: firm, confident, reassuring. Something about her radiated absolute safety. With a restrained sigh, Fleur obeyed and slipped the bracelet from her wrist.
The air changed instantly. An invisible wave of allure filled the room. Fleur knew that with just a touch, the effect would intensify… yet Wanda remained completely unaffected, watching her calmly.
"Hypnotism," Wanda murmured, as if confirming a hypothesis. "I thought so. I'm actually quite good with that type of magic."
Relief flickered in Fleur's eyes. Even some women had fallen to her allure, though never with the same intensity as men. Only her family—and that insufferable brat—seemed immune. And now, Wanda too.
"So… what do you want to do?" Wanda asked evenly, as if the answer were of little consequence.
"Do?" Fleur repeated, confused. Special classes had always been about trying to control her magic, not about choosing what to do with it.
"Yes. Do you want to learn to control it, to minimize its effect… or simply to erase it altogether?"
"Erase it?" Fleur blinked, incredulous. "That… I don't think that's possible. After all, it's in my blood."
"We could extract it from your blood," Wanda replied with absolute nonchalance, as if she were talking about removing a stain from a dress.
Fleur stared at her, open-mouthed, unsure if she was serious or simply testing her. Finally, she swallowed hard and answered: "I think… I'd rather learn to control it."
"Good."
Wanda extended her hand and pressed two fingers against Fleur's forehead.
The young girl barely had time to inhale before everything around her began to spin. The ground vanished beneath her feet, the air vibrated with energy, and red sparks flared outward like burning embers. Fleur squeezed her eyes shut, trying to withstand the dizziness.
When the vertigo stopped, she opened them slowly… and the first thing she saw was that scarlet glow, warm and dangerous, surrounding her like an endless ocean.
Before the light enveloped them again, everything shifted in a flash. Fleur instantly realized she was standing in a very familiar place: cobblestone streets lined with magical shops, witches and wizards hurrying along with bags in hand, children running while licking ice creams, and adults chatting happily on the terraces.
"This is Place Cachée, right?" Wanda asked curiously, studying every detail of the hidden market.
"Yes… but why are we here?" Fleur murmured, bewildered.
"If the problem lies in your subconscious, the best thing to do is to find the root. There are other ways, but this one… is much more interesting." Wanda smiled gently. Fleur, for a brief moment, couldn't help but remember the mischievous grin of that brat who always irritated her.
"We're in my mind?" she asked quickly.
"That's right." Wanda answered with natural ease, pointing in a specific direction.
There, a little blonde girl skipped along, holding her mother's hand. Fleur immediately recognized that younger version of herself, no more than eight years old. The woman at her side—elegant, stunning, with a smile that drew the eyes of both men and women—was none other than Madame Delacour. She was like an adult reflection of Fleur herself.
"That's my mother," Fleur said with a nostalgic smile. "She never really changes… no matter how many years pass." But her expression soon darkened. She knew exactly what was about to happen.
"Fleur, darling, do you want an ice cream? Chocolate, your favorite?" Madame Delacour asked, stopping in front of a shop.
"Yes!" the little girl answered with joy. "But there are too many people… I'll just wait for you on that bench." she pointed to a seat nearby.
"Alright, but don't move from there," her mother warned tenderly, casting constant glances at her while she approached the shop.
The adult Fleur turned her eyes away, unable to face what she knew was coming. The little one, her legs dangling from the bench, suddenly sneezed. That simple gesture was the trigger. Her magic burst out like an invisible wave, amplifying her allure to a level impossible to contain.
Immediately, every man in the square turned toward her with a crazed look. Little Fleur froze, terrified. Her mother shouted her name, but the men—like puppets without will—began rushing toward the girl, shoving one another aside. One drew his wand and cast a spell to drive the others away. That was all it took for chaos to erupt.
The entire square became an improvised battlefield. Spells flew in every direction, while the French Aurors tried to contain the situation… only to end up ensnared by the magical influence themselves. Children cried, women fled screaming, and in the middle of the turmoil, little Fleur sobbed, calling desperately for her mother.
A wizard, completely unhinged, cast a Fiendfyre. The black flames roared with fury. Madame Delacour reached her just in time, knocking down the man who held her daughter and shielding Fleur with her own body. She raised a protective barrier, reinforcing it with her own allure to counter Fleur's.
The fire slammed against her defense, and in that instant, the others regained their senses. The spell slowly dissipated, and through the haze came the heart-rending cry of the child.
"Waaaaa!" Fleur sobbed, clinging to her mother.
The men, instead of feeling remorse, lashed out with insults against Madame Delacour for bringing an uncontrolled Veela into a public place. She ignored them, hurrying away, focused only on comforting her daughter.
But the adult Fleur knew she wasn't crying out of fear or because of the chaos. She cried because she had seen her mother's arm: burned, bloodied, the flesh exposed from the cursed fire. And still, Madame Delacour smiled, enduring unimaginable pain, so her daughter wouldn't drown in guilt.
"It's alright, mon bébé. It's over now… you don't have to worry about anything," she whispered, stroking Fleur's head with her free hand.
Beside Wanda, the adult Fleur couldn't hold back her tears. They streamed down her cheeks as she watched the scene unfold. Wanda, her eyes tinged with melancholy, spoke softly.
"Mothers are incredible, aren't they? They can give everything for their children… even their lives. They endure pains no one else could, just to make sure their little ones don't lose the world that sustains them." She smiled gently. "Your mother is truly a great woman. That must make you very happy."
"Yes…" Fleur murmured, unable to deny that truth as she wept inconsolably.
"Well," Wanda added calmly, "it seems helping my first student will be easier than I thought." She had understood the root of Fleur's unconscious rejection of her own allure: she associated it with her mother's suffering.
"Then let's go heal your mother," Wanda said, clapping her hands as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
"Eh?" Fleur blinked, startled. Before she could react, a wave of dizziness swept over her. The image of the square dissolved, and she reappeared in Wanda's office.
The witch rose with composure, walked to the door, and opened it. On the other side, a scarlet portal unfurled, revealing a white mansion that Fleur recognized at once: her home.
"Are you coming?" Wanda asked, looking at her with a serene smile.