Hello Dear Readers, I am back with new ideas for our fanfic. Now chapter will be posted daily for this week.
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The arrival was less dramatic than expected. The portal deposited them neatly into the foyer of a small, elegant mansion — not nearly as grand as the Hellfire Club's estate, but no less refined in its own way. Pale stone walls, tasteful antiques, and polished wooden floors gave the place a quiet dignity. A fire crackled in a hearth nearby, while faint notes of vanilla and lavender lingered in the air.
Despite a few magical things, the men's attention was, however, grabbed by the beauty named — Fleur Delacour.
Platinum blonde hair cascaded like liquid silver over her shoulders, her pale blue robes hugging a figure that belonged on the cover of magazines and the walls of ancient portraits alike. There was a grace to her movements, a hypnotic flow, as though she glided rather than walked.
Every man in the room — Pietro included, to his credit — visibly paused. Even Magneto would've needed a second to re-center himself if he'd been there. Pietro, for his part, muttered a breathless "Mon dieu…" under his breath.
Nova, predictably, was no exception. His eyes widened for a brief heartbeat, a flicker of appreciation flashing across his face. It wasn't just her beauty — though that was staggering enough — it was the raw, undeniable presence she carried. Like she'd been born in a different, grander age and simply deigned to grace this one with her company.
But Nova was Nova.
And while he was a legendary pervert, he was also — perhaps regrettably — a gentleman. He allowed himself a single appreciative look, then forced himself to clear his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets with an easy grin, masking the fact that Fleur had knocked him on his ass for a second there.
"Damn," he murmured under his breath. "Magical Britain comes in hot."
Wanda shot him a knowing, sidelong glance. "Behave."
"I'm always on my best behavior," Nova replied smoothly.
"Your 'best' isn't exactly comforting," Jean muttered from the side, but she too was eyeing Fleur with a mix of surprise and wariness. The veela allure was palpable even to her.
Nova's thoughts clicked into place a moment later, though. Wait a second… Fleur Delacour? She wasn't supposed to be here yet. By his understanding — from both the canon and the fragmented reports from contacts in the magical world — Fleur didn't properly align herself with the Order of the Phoenix until well into what would be their sixth year or sixth movie. And yet, here she was in the middle of the fifth movie, standing before them, clearly already involved in something serious.
Before he could voice the question, Fleur spoke, her voice carrying the kind of accent that could make diplomats forget their talking points.
"Greetings, all," she said, offering a slight, elegant bow of the head. "I am Fleur Delacour, a member of ze Marauder Group — an organization established by Harry Potter to oppose ze rise of dark forces and to deal with some otherworld problems and seize opportunities."
That dropped like a stone into the room.
Nova's brows lifted. The Marauder Group? Harry made a private strike force? In fifth year?
Even Wanda looked mildly surprised. Pietro blinked. Jean arched a brow. And Emma… Emma was smirking, because of course she was.
Well, this was a butterfly flapping its wings. They all knew that Harry Potter traded with Nova previously, so changes were bound to happen in the timeline.
The change of Harry Potter creating his own force was very beneficial for himself and for them too.
"Well," Nova said after a beat, flashing Fleur a grin. "That's… unexpected. Guess I owe Harry a drink. Or five."
Fleur offered a faint, knowing smile in return — though it carried a sharpness beneath its warmth, like she was very aware of how easily she could wreck any man here if she wanted to.
"I have been asked to welcome you and escort you to ze meeting chamber," she continued smoothly. "Harry isn't personally available to greet you all due to the fact he cannot leave Hogwarts due to obvious reasons."
Nova gave a theatrical bow, grinning wide. "Lead the way, Miss Delacour."
And as Fleur turned, her hair catching the light, Emma leaned close and muttered under her breath, "Focus, lover boy — look above, not at that magnificent piece of arse."
Nova gave a low chuckle at Emma's comment, not bothering to deny it. "I can multitask," he shot back under his breath, grinning like the rogue he was. "Appreciate beauty, handle business, maybe flirt a little harmlessly along the way — it's called being well-rounded."
Emma rolled her eyes but smirked all the same, a faint, amused gleam in her pale blue gaze. "Just don't get yourself hexed into next week. Veela allure can be a little… intense."
"I've resisted worse," Nova replied smoothly, though the glance he cast at Fleur suggested it wasn't going to be easy.
Wanda, walking beside them, snorted softly. "Sure you have. Your track record's spotless, right?"
Nova tapped a finger to his lips, as if in deep contemplation. "Immaculate. Like a saint, but with better hair."
Pietro, quick-stepping up to Fleur's other side, wasted no time throwing on his most dazzling grin, the kind that made people nervous. "So, mademoiselle, you mentioned a Marauder Group. Got room for a speedster on the roster? I come highly recommended."
Fleur gave a light, silvery laugh — the kind of sound that made the air in the room seem to shimmer. "Ah, you are ze quick one, yes?" she teased, a playful spark in her eyes. "We shall see if you can keep up, monsieur."
Nova slid in then, shamelessly joining the moment. "Careful, Quickie. She's got the kind of walk that makes men forget how to breathe."
"Speak for yourself, Nova," Pietro shot back. "I've got stamina for days."
Fleur gave them a dry, arch smile. "Is zis how you flirt in your world? Trading boasts and ridiculous quips?"
"Oh no," Nova grinned, giving her a casual wink. "This is us being polite. You should see us when we're actually trying."
Fleur's lips quirked into a faint, knowing smile. "Perhaps I shall."
Emma smirked and gave Nova a sidelong nudge. "If you two start undressing each other with your eyes, at least wait until we've heard the briefing."
"Hey, I'm a professional," Nova quipped, though his grin lingered a little too long on Fleur's retreating figure as she led them down the corridor, her hair catching the light with every step. "But you can't blame a man for appreciating a masterpiece."
Jean sighed under her breath. "We're never getting through this without someone getting hexed."
And with that, the group followed Fleur deeper into the mansion, the air thick with charm, teasing banter, and the undeniable sense that things were about to get a whole lot more interesting.
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The heavy oak doors to the meeting chamber creaked open with a low groan, the soft glow from within spilling out into the corridor. Fleur led the way with her usual effortless grace, platinum hair catching the light like liquid silver. Nova and his smaller team followed in behind her, but the air shifted when the larger group entered.
Thirty-five mutants, battle-tested and disciplined, filed in with practiced precision. They moved like soldiers — quiet, efficient, with that unmistakable air of dangerous people who'd seen worse rooms than this and lived through them. At their head were Mystique and Sabretooth, the leaders of their contingent.
Mystique strode in first, all lethal elegance, her sharp yellow eyes flicking over the enchanted chamber. The floating orbs of light, the crackling emerald fire, the softly glowing runes on the table — it was all foreign, even for her. But Mystique was Mystique. If the strangeness unsettled her, not a trace of it showed on her face.
Behind her came Sabretooth, towering and broad-shouldered, his eyes narrowing at the magical artifacts scattered around the room. A low, rumbling sound almost like a growl escaped him — not aggressive, more a wary animal's instinctive reaction to an environment it didn't control.
The rest of their team fanned out, filling the remaining seats. A few exchanged subtle glances when a crystal ball on a side table flared momentarily or when a chess piece gestured impatiently for its turn. But to their credit, they kept their composure, curiosity neatly boxed behind years of training. These were mutants who'd faced black ops units, and death squads. A levitating candle wasn't going to rattle them.
All of them settled onto chairs, with Fleur sitting at the forefront and Nova deciding to take a seat beside her, after all he was the one with most interactions with Harry Potter.
Once everybody sat, Fleur spoke, "I greet you all for travelling from another world to our world to fight against evil. I sincerely thank you all."
Then she continued, "This is a gesture for goodwill and our future cooperation."
With a wave of her hand, elves who were hidden understood the hidden signal and bottles of butterbeer and Firewhiskey appeared in front of all.