Chapter Text
I Do Not Own Harry Potter
All Characters Appearing In This Work Are Fictitious. Any Resemblance To Real Persons, Living Or Dead Is Purely Coincidental.
Aegis Maxima!
Chapter 1: Research and Ron
December 1999
It was nearly Christmas, and Fleur, yrc was almost six months pregnant. Technically five months but who's counting. Her family was spending the holidays with the Weasleys. Although it was only the second Christmas since the war — and since Fred — it was already shaping up to be better than the last.
There was still much healing to be done, as many of the Weasleys tried to come to terms with the past and move forward. But for one red-haired Weasley, it wasn’t about the past — it was about surviving the present.
Against his instincts, Ron had spent hours after work buried in books about Veela, researching spells to protect himself from Veela magic. Unfortunately, Veela were such a rare breed of magical creatures (though Hermione insisted on calling them “beings”) that there was very little information available.
His first thought had been to contact Charlie, a professional magizoologist. Although Veela weren’t Charlie’s specialty, all he could offer was that the study of Veela was a narrow field — mostly pursued by magizoologists in Bulgaria and France who specialized in magical birds. Even then, most Veela researchers were women, naturally immune to Veela charms, and their work was publicly available anyway.
Even Hagrid, expert on all things magical and monstrous (technically Veela were classified as creatures), had little advice beyond: “They’re troublesome and temperamental at the best of times. Not unlike dragons.” Ron had smiled indulgently at one of his oldest and largest friends. That was Hagrid for you. And, on reflection, he wasn’t wrong — both were dangerous, just in different ways.
Ron even swallowed his pride and asked Viktor Krum for advice, since Veela were native to Bulgaria. But Viktor had little to offer beyond, “You get used to it.”
Ron should’ve known better than to ask a plonker like him. Although, he had noticed Hermione before Ron did, so maybe he wasn’t completely stupid. Besides, he still played a good game of Quidditch — and that was something Ron could respect. Even if he didn’t like it. (It would take him years to forgive his fourth-year grudge against the bulky Quidditch star.)
Even the Delacour family had little help to offer. Fleur and her relatives explained that young adults — especially men with passionate, impulsive personalities (a certain specky, black-haired git had called that “a polite way of saying you’re a randy bugger who can’t keep your hands to yourself”) — were more susceptible to Veela charms.
Beyond their allure, most Veela had a magical specialty besides fire and elemental magic. Even though Mrs. Delacour and her daughters weren’t full Veela, that magic had still passed down. Hermione called it genetics. Ron called it a pain in the arse. That earned him an eye-roll from Hermione and a smack upside the head from his mum for using foul language in the kitchen.
Mrs. Delacour also said her mother believed Veela blood was exceptionally rich in magic — attuned to the elements and nature itself. Bill found that fascinating. Ron found it unhelpful.
With no other options, Ron decided to create a spell of his own. Easier said than done. He’d made a conscious decision to do this without Hermione’s help — he wanted an accomplishment that was his alone. So, with only Percy (who understood his brother’s stubborn streak) to help with research, Ron got to work.