If I went to Gringotts and asked about theses marriage offers would they tell me?' Harry inquired carefully.
'I was rather hoping you would ask that,' her father smiled triumphantly. 'Should I return with your company the goblins will be willing to answer almost all the questions I wanted answering before.'
'What were the other questions?' Harry grinned. 'I thought you might want to know what state your family's vaults were in, but they would only tell me that the majority of your assets were liquidated over twenty years ago, and they only told me that because I could legally inquire about any property your family owns.' Her father pulled a distasted expression. 'Goblins are very loyal and honourable creatures, but stubborn and cunning too. The reason I asked was because the goblins won't give you anything you do not ask for. They prefer to have as much wizarding wealth within their walls as they can manage, so if you know of any families that are related to yours that you might be able to lay claim to then you need to ask to receive anything.'
Sudden interest flared in Harry's eyes and he looked faintly thoughtful. 'I'm afraid I can only think of one family that I might have any claim to.'
'Only one?' Her father seemed surprised. 'The Potters are an old family, though not particularly prestigious until the fourteenth century when the last member of a very old and famous family married into their family and their status was suddenly elevated. They were originally from France, but were forced to choose a new name to escape the associations the other branch of their family made in Aguilar with the Cathar movement. It was a good thing they did.'
'The Cathars were rather prejudicially crusaded against in France and Italy over a century or so,' Fleur explained, familiar with this part of her father's lecture. 'They were a point where muggle religion met the magical world, and drew the ire of the Papacy for it.'
'Your family moved away and was forgotten long before the crusades of De Montfort,' Fleur's father continued, 'but they were renowned for being a neutral, conflict wary family for many years and consequently outlived and absorbed a lot of other magical families, some of which were quite prestigious. Eventually all the links with greater families made the Potters great too.'
'You were serious about inquiring about my family,' Harry commented.
'I actually already knew all of that,' her father admitted, abashed. Her mother laughed lightly. 'I have a long list of names that might yield something if the goblins are asked about their vaults, but they will only do it if you are present, and they won't actually do anything but register a request has been made until you're seventeen.'
'I see,' Harry nodded. 'So you would like me to accompany you to Gringotts?'
'I would,' her father answered only to freeze as a giant, silver eagle the height of a man suddenly burst into the room, flaring its wings to stop in front of Harry. 'There's likely nothing left.' It was Harry's voice that emanated from the bird, and her mother gasped staring at him with soft eyes. 'He suggests making a request just in case, but insisting it remain a secret.'
'That's your patronus?' Fleur's mother asked in a slightly strangled tone.
'Yes,' Harry nodded, a slight red tinge touching his cheeks.
'I didn't know you could send messages using your patronus,' her father remarked. 'How do you do it?'
'I don't know,' Harry grinned. 'I suspect I'll find out sometime in the next six hours though.'
He has a time-turner, Fleur realised. It was the only thing that made sense. There was no other way he could send a patronus message to himself using a method he had not yet learnt. It didn't explain her mother's reaction to it though.
Fleur glanced pointedly at the kitchen, catching her mother's eye.
'We'll leave you two to talk about history,' Fleur's mother smiled. 'Try not to be too enthusiastic about it Laurent. These are the only conversations that explain how my youngest daughter ended up like she did,' she told Harry lightly.
'Beauxbatons,' Fleur said, catching Harry's raised eyebrow as she was stepping out. It was sweet of him to care about Gabrielle.
'What was wrong with his patronus?' Fleur demanded the moment she was sure they were out of earshot. 'Wrong?' Her mother asked, shifting uncomfortably. 'There's nothing wrong with it all, far from it. I fear we may have misjudged him horribly,' she admitted.
'And that is related to his patronus' form because?' Fleur pressed, sensing her mother was trying to evade actually answering the question.
'I suppose if he was willing to cast it where we would see, then he does not mind us all knowing,' her mother sighed. 'Do you remember what I told you about veela when I started teaching you how to control your veela magic?'
'Yes,' Fleur answered. 'Or at least most of it.'
'The you know the myth of the origins of veela is that they are the descendants of beautiful witches who were raised by Anzu, long extinct, magical birds.' Her mother gave her a pointed look, but Fleur didn't need it to realise what she was saying about Harry's corporeal patronus.
'It's an Anzu, but what does that matter?'
'In mythology the Anzu were used to denote the elements of fire and air, and the origin myth is likely a poorly interpreted reference to our magical affinities, but regardless of the real reason for its association with veela your boyfriend,' Fleur frowned at the immature sounding noun, 'has the strongest affinity to a creature synonymous with veela.'
'That's a good thing, surely,' Fleur responded.
'A good thing,' her mother made an odd choking noise. 'It's a fairly well known fact that a patronus often changes for dramatic emotional upheaval or change. Ask him if it has changed and you will understand or it will be irrelevant.' Fleur pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated with her mother's roundabout explanation. She was always this way when she thought that Fleur needed to work something your for herself.
'We're going to Gringotts,' her father called from the entrance hall. 'Do you wish to come, Fleur, Apolline?'
'Go,' her mother told her, 'and don't forget to ask.' She shot her mother one more frown before striding quickly into the entrance hall .
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