I don't own Harry Potter.

I was inspired by the stories where Harry's saving of Gabrielle transformed him into a Veela and a girl. This is my version of that storyline. My thanks to White Angel of Auralon for how to deal with Horcruxes.

Please let me know what you think.

The New Veela.

"So, it's true, then maman, the curse is in effect?" Fleur Delacour asked her mother.

The elder Veela nodded. Apolline Delacour was an older version of Fleur, being tall, lithe, and well built, both of them had long silver-blonde hair of a classic Veela, hourglass figures and large busts with long legs completing their bodies, while they had beautiful faces which seemed to have been sculpted by a goddess for their children to live on Earth.

"I'm afraid so," Apolline replied in her thick French accent.

Fleur looked down. "I've only just gotten to know him, mama," she said sadly before she looked up. "Why does the curse have to take effect?"

"I don't like this any more than you do, my darling," the elder woman gently caressed her daughter's face. Her blue eyes sparkled like two crystalline sapphires as they gazed sympathetically at her daughter. "But we have no choice; I don't need to tell you what the consequences would be if we refused to follow the Veela Code on this matter."

Fleur winced. "When do we do this?"

"Right away. Preparations are already being prepared at the conclave in France. We shall conduct the ritual there as soon as we can, and your cousins and my sister have already agreed to handle the raising part."

"It's just not fair!" Fleur sniffed as she cried. "He has been through so much; when he was chosen by the Goblet, I sickened myself when I mocked him, and then he rescued Gabrielle because I couldn't reach her. I was upset because I knew there was the chance of the curse kicking in."

"I know," Apolline sighed as she looked down. "The problem is very few people know of Veela; all of those sensationalist articles and books demeaning us, all of those people viewing us as sex objects or trophies to be had don't help, and very few even bother to truly understand our ways. It's even worse in Magical Britain, where there is so little information which isn't contaminated in some way. Harry Potter had no way of knowing what would happen when he saved Gabrielle, and neither did anyone else. We keep the curse a secret for a reason, Fleur; not even your father knows about it, and he married me!"

Fleur nodded seriously, wiping away her tears silently. When she had grown up along with her cousins, she had been horrified when she had learnt just how little people actually bothered to learn about her and her people. While it was believed she was a half Veela, it was a myth; she and her sister were both full Veela, much like their mother. It was just easier to lie and say that she was a half-blooded Veela, although it was insulting. But there were just so many myths about her and the other Veela in the world, it was not funny.

"When do you want me to bring him to us?" she asked, knowing it was logical to ask; she knew her mother and the Veela elders would be preparing the ritual for some time, and ensuring their new charge had a place within their community, but she needed to know so she could get the timing right.

"Tomorrow morning if you can," her mother replied seriously, looking even more regretful. "It is a Saturday, so there will be no classes. Will you have any problem of getting him to us?"

"No, Maman," Fleur shook her head, her blonde hair flying about. "He has been alone since the end of the first task; it was disgusting, all of those badges. Even his best friends had abandoned him, so getting him away when he's free won't be a problem."

If Apolline had been feeling upset before, she felt even worse now. "I didn't know it was that bad," she commented.

"Oh, it is, maman," Fleur snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously; for a moment Apolline was frightened she would transform into her bird form, but fortunately her daughter had enough self-control to calm down, although she watched for the danger signs. "It was horrible! He was alone, mocked by everyone, and that is before the Daily Prophet came out, but the teachers never did anything about it."

The elder Delacour closed her eyes. She had known all that of course and while she was annoyed by how her daughter had acted during that time with how she had mocked the boy, she was pleased her daughter's natural kindness had returned. It was a miracle the boy had even managed to make it this far into the tournament. While she was pleased her daughter was a champion, Apolline was naturally worried about what could happen since the tournament had been originally banned for a good reason with the high death tolls until it was decided it wasn't worth it.

"We can make up for it," she declared. "Don't forget, during the ritual, we shall see for ourselves what we can do to help him in the transition into his new life."

Fleur licked her lips. While she was happy about getting a new cousin, and she was pleased her nature would soon assuage her guilt soon enough, she didn't like the way it was being done, even if it was the Veela way.

XXX

Harry walked through the corridors of Hogwarts alone, and he didn't stop until he was down by the lake, hoping the cold air would shake off the strange feeling he had been having for the last few days.

It was a strange, burning, sensation.

He wasn't dizzy because of it, and he had no idea what it was. He had thought if he ignored it, it would go away. But it hadn't. He had refused to see the nurse. After she had turned him away from the lynch mobs who'd hunted him through the school when his name had been drawn out of the Goblet of Fire, he had lost his trust in the woman, although it had always been shaky trust.

He found a large enough rock he could use as a seat, and he slipped on top of it, shivering a little as the cold rock went right through his trousers, but he quickly adapted to the chill. It was strange for him to be here, considering what had taken place only a few days ago, but in truth, he was just desperate for solitude, and since everyone was either still asleep because of the day and the hour, it was perfect for him.

Two tasks down, one to go. Harry closed his eyes, thinking about the complete and utter mess this year was turning into; it was bad enough with last year, when Snape had managed to corner Sirius and get his godfather kissed deliberately, and Dumbledore had simply refused to listen to anything he had said relating to his godfather's innocence, and having to endure looking at Snape's sneers of triumph all the time, and Hermione and Ron kept telling him to leave off since there was nothing he could do, Harry had thought that was as bad as things could get.

But no. Now he was the fourth champion of the Tri-wizard tournament, everyone had turned on him, including his so-called friends, although Harry had never had any doubt about Ron or Hermione. He had known for a long time there was something not quite right about those two, although he had gone out of his way to make sure they didn't realise he'd twigged about them. When he had returned to Hogwarts, and he had actually been in two minds about whether or not he should be coming back at all after the way Dumbledore and Snape had both ensured Sirius was kissed, before he had decided to come so then he'd be one year closer to becoming a fifth year so he could do his OWLs and then wave goodbye to the magical world.

He knew Voldemort was out there, and he'd dealt with them a couple of times, and even witnessed the atrocities they'd committed during the mess of the Quidditch World Cup.

But he didn't care.

He no longer cared if Voldemort burnt the wizarding world to the ground anymore since he had nothing to live for since Dumbledore kept ripping away what little happiness he had. His Hogwarts experience was a terrible joke, and he just wanted to be free. He wanted to travel the world without someone tearing that away from him.

Harry looked down at his hands. What was the point? Why did all this crap have to happen to him? Sirius had been the one hope he'd had of a family. Granted, he had no idea if it would have worked since Dumbledore's power over him seemed insurmountable and absolute, but he had considered more than once faking his own death, or something along those lines just to escape the old wizard and his terrible schemes.

But I don't know what it is all about.

Harry was so drawn into his thoughts, he didn't notice or hear the sounds of someone creeping up behind him until he heard a spell being cast, but it was too late. His vision went black…

XXX

"…I can't believe you stunned him, Fleur."

"It was the perfect option. In any case, I took the initiative."

Listening to the two accented voices, one of which he dimly knew, Harry opened his eyes slowly, shivering more than he had earlier before he realised he was naked. Shocked, he jerked up, feeling his palms scrape across smoothed stone slabs.

"Where am I?" he demanded, looking around desperately before he found himself looking at four beautiful blonde women. One of them he recognised, although one of them was an older version of her.

"Fleur?" he squinted at the Beauxbatons champion curiously, pulling his knees upwards in a vain attempt to cover himself up, although he knew it was futile since he had been naked for God knew how long, and she had probably seen every part of his naked form. He just hoped she didn't ask any questions about the injuries he had sustained over the years. "What's going on? Where am I? Why am I naked? What are you doing?"

Fleur sighed and looked at the woman who resembled her a great deal. The older Fleur stepped forward.

"Hello, Harry Potter," she said with her thick French accent in her voice, but he noticed she didn't stumble once on any of her words. "I am truly sorry about this, but you are naked because you are going to be taking part in an important ritual."

"A ritual?" Harry whispered, frightened.

Fleur lifted her hands to try to calm him down. "Harry-."

"Hold on, why is it you aren't stumbling over your English?" Harry interrupted, looking at her curiously.

One of the older women chuckled. "Ah, an inquiring mind. It's truly refreshing."

"Not now, Lucile," one of the other women scolded.

"That's enough!" The women Harry had guessed was Fleur's mother chided over her shoulder before she turned back and smiled down at Harry as she knelt in front of him. "Mr Potter, my name is Apolline Delacour. You have met my daughters, Fleur and Gabrielle. As for why my daughter and everyone else is not stumbling over your…language," she sniffed at the word, as if contemptuous of the very notion of English being a language, "is because we cast a translation spell over ourselves and yourself. That way you can understand us all without it."

"A translation spell?" Harry echoed, wondering for a moment why none of the teachers had bothered to cast it once, but he shook that off. "But why is this happening? And why am I naked? Where are my clothes?"

"You're naked because you need to be for the ritual to work. In any case, you won't need those rags ever again," the elder woman replied before she looked down. "Not many people know about this, less than a handful. You saved my daughter's life, but you tripped the Veela curse."

Harry reared back in horror. He had already experienced the curse of Voldemort's spell when he had been a baby, and he lived with the effects all the time. The idea of having another curse infecting him was not something he wanted.

"Oh, don't worry, there is a cure, of sorts. Have you been feeling odd since the end of the last task?"

Surprised by the question which was so sudden, Harry looked at her stunned.

Apolline nodded. "Your silence has just given me my answer. The only thing is when you save a Veela, any Veela, you contract the curse, and we have to undergo the ritual," Apolline explained soothingly, but there was a genuine look of sorrow in her eyes. "If we don't carry the ritual out, you will die. My youngest daughter will die."

She looked down, visibly trying not to cry at the thought.

Harry gaped. "What?"

"Do you want my daughter to die along with yourself?" Apolline bluntly challenged, clearly wondering if Harry was one of those bigots who only cared for himself.

"Of course I don't want her to die! She is only an innocent kid who was dragged into the tournament!" Harry snapped, angrily. "And I don't know about myself, while I want to live I have so much shit happening in my life. But I don't understand what is happening!"

"You saved my daughter, who is a Veela. Therefore, you will become a Veela yourself, but you will be regressed in age after you have become a girl," Apolline said soothingly.

Harry pulled back in disbelief. "I'm…I'm going to become a girl!?"

"Yes. All Veela are women, and you will be not an exception."

"I'm not going to become a girl!" Harry shook his head. "I'm not going to become a Veela."

"There's nothing that can be done," Apolline stood up and looked down sympathetically at him, pitying the boy who was soon going to become a girl and then into a baby again. "And besides, there's something else."

"What more can there be?" Harry demanded, glaring angrily up at the older woman.

"Did you know you shared your soul with a soul fragment from that Dark Lord who tried to kill you as a baby?" Apolline asked.

Harry looked at her in horror while he thought he'd misheard her, but she simply stopped him from asking anything else. "Think about it, Harry," she instructed. "Have you ever felt pain whenever the Dark Lord is near you?"

"My scar?" he whispered, working it out for himself since he had been given the clue, although he knew it would have occurred to him sooner or later.

"Yes," one of the older Veela replied solemnly, though with a hint of anger in her voice. "It is irresponsible and carelessly dangerous to leave the Horcrux untreated."

"A Horcrux? What is that?" Harry asked curiously.

One of the Veela sighed. "A Horcrux is a fragment torn from the main soul as part of a ritual in an act of murder against an innocent soul, a child, in other words, believed to make someone immortal."

"A child, but that horrible!"

"Yes, it is, and I'm glad you feel the same way. It's a myth that has existed for centuries. It doesn't work because every soul has a set lifespan. Still, it's disgusting enough even without the catalyst for the ritual."

"Why?" Harry asked fascinated; while he was disgusted by what Voldemort had done, it sounded like something the evil monster would do, but he was interested to find out what Riddle had gotten wrong.

"Souls don't just keep the body alive, they also contain magic. It's a myth blood," the unnamed Veela's clear disgust sent chills down Harry's spine that had nothing to do with the cold, "has anything to do with someone's power, and its annoying so many put stock in the myth. But anything that damages the soul, damages the magic as well. If they worked, the world would be swamped by immortals."

Harry guessed that made sense, but he had something else on his mind. "Can you get it out?" he asked desperately, hoping that if the Horcrux in his scar was removed, it would remove the Veela curse.

"Yes, but curses don't work well, but we can use the power of the Veela to our advantage, and remove the Horcrux from your scar so then the Veela curse can be brought into effect," Apolline reassured him.

Harry looked down. "What will happen to me?" he asked plaintively as he slowly started to accept the fact there was nothing he could do, and there was no way out.

"I shall take you in as my daughter," one of the Veela stepped forward, allowing Harry to see her clearly. She looked very similar to Fleur and her mother, but her eyes were a darker shade of blue, and she clapped her hands and looked at him with a motherly smile Harry had never seen, never mind experienced. "I shall teach you everything you need to know about being a girl and a Veela."

Harry sighed. He had not expected this day - or however long it had been since there was nothing around him to help him work out the time - to turn out in this manner.

And yet… the thought of being free of Voldemort once and for all, although he was still having trouble working out what these women would do with the soul piece, and he knew he'd need to ask more questions, was compelling.

What sealed the deal was the thought of having a mother of his own. Someone to love him. While he loved his own mother, he had never known her, and no-one had ever told him anything about her besides the fact they had the same eye colour and a few other hints over the years, which had often made him wonder if the Hogwarts staff bought into that pureblood nonsense since she was a muggle-born. His suspicions about that had been founded in stone during second year when no real help was provided for the students the basilisk had petrified.

"Okay," he whispered, but he looked up seriously. "Before we start, you should know Voldemort," he paused and waited for the expected flinching to die down, "has been after me for years. Is there anything we can do about that?"

"Oh, yes," the woman who was going to be his new mother replied.