Ren was still coming to terms with the fact that this was the second new country of the day (the fact that he had lived his entire past life in Britain didn't count). He had expected to be placed with a family in Wizarding England. Not France. But then again, the law applied to the continent of Europe as a whole, which France was a part of. It was still unexpected, though.
Then Dumbledore dropped another bomb on him by revealing that he would be living with the Delacours. A family of Veelas. Part-Veelas, at least. He was certain that Eternal Zen would protect him from their Allure. In fact, any monk from his monastery had cultivated enough willpower to resist it. Lust was a demon that every true monk had already defeated.
He was also beginning to understand what Dumbledore had meant by the Delacours needing someone of his profession. Whatever the task was, it required someone who could resist Veela Allure. Someone like a monk.
Ren was pulled from his thoughts by the sharp knock of Dumbledore's fist on the Delacours' door. A few seconds later, it swung open to reveal a short, plump man in his forties with a small, pointed black beard. His face was kindly, and it lit up the moment he saw Dumbledore. He ushered them inside with a warm wave of his hand.
As Ren took in the quiet elegance of the home, the man said to Dumbledore in French, "Welcome, Albus! It is absolutely delightful to have you here. I see you've brought young Mr. Alaric as well."
He turned to Ren and smiled, switching to halting, heavily accented English. "Allo, Meester Alaric! Jean Delacour, at your service! Ah, you look just like your father, c'est incroyable! Come, come, do not stand in ze doorway. You will catch a chill, hein? Enter, enter! We shall chat in ze study. Much more comfortable, oui?"
Ren returned the smile and followed Mr. Delacour inside, replying in effortless French, "Hello, Mr. Delacour. Please, call me Ren. And I must say, your home is quite beautiful."
Ren had been a language enthusiast in his previous life. French, German, Spanish, Russian, Japanese. He spoke them all as naturally as his mother tongue. It was one of his gifts that never failed to impress, and this time was no exception.
Mr. Delacour's eyes widened. Then he broke into a chuckle and reverted to French, "I had no idea you spoke French, young man. A pleasant surprise. It will make things considerably easier, actually. I have two daughters. Fleur is fourteen, Gabrielle is ten. Neither of them understands a word of English. So this is fortunate for all of us."
They were soon settled in the study, arranged around a small table near the fireplace. Mr. Delacour rapped the tabletop once, and with a sharp crack, three steaming cups of tea materialized before them. "Drink first," he said, settling back into his chair. "Make yourselves at home. We will talk soon."
A comfortable silence fell over the room. As Ren sat and sipped, he noticed the house was unusually quiet. He hesitated a moment, then activated Greater Sense, which confirmed what he suspected. There was no one else in the house but the three of them. Mr. Delacour offered an explanation shortly after. "My wife and daughters are out shopping. They should be back any minute." His expression shifted, growing more serious. "Until then, Ren, there is something I need your help. Has Albus explained anything?"
Ren set down his cup and nodded. "Professor Dumbledore mentioned that my profession might be of some use to you. Beyond that, I know nothing."
Mr. Delacour exchanged a brief glance with Dumbledore and sighed. "Yes. I'm not entirely certain, but I believe a monk may be exactly what I need. Before I say another word, however, I want to be clear. This is not a transaction. You will live with us regardless of whether you choose to help us or not. Apolline would have my head if I thought any differently."
Ren smiled and said, without hesitation, "Since you've said that, I'll help you to the best of my ability, whatever the task turns out to be. My conscience would give me no peace otherwise. Now, you old men are keeping me in suspense. What is it you need?"
Mr. Delacour's face broke into a warm, grateful smile. "My wife, Apolline, is a half-Veela. Which makes both of my daughters quarter-Veelas. So-"
Dumbledore interjected with a look of gentle amusement. "Jean, you're forgetting that Ren only entered the wizarding world today. He won't know what a Veela is." He turned to Ren. "Veelas are a humanoid species of extraordinary beauty. They possess a unique magic called the Allure, an invisible power that intensifies attraction and stirs desire in those around them. That should suffice for now. Apolline will be able to tell you more later."
Mr. Delacour cleared his throat, looking slightly chastened, and continued. "Yes, yes — thank you, Albus. As I was saying, both Fleur and Gabrielle are quarter-Veelas. Gabrielle is still a child, so her Allure is faint; it makes her seem endearing, inspires affection, nothing more. Fleur, however, is going through puberty. For a Veela, that means a sharp and significant rise in the Allure; from something that inspires fondness to something that provokes desire."
"But the real problem is the speed of it. Her Allure is growing faster than she can control. That's common with Veelas at her stage. The excess has to be released somehow. But she can't simply let it loose throughout the house. We have servants and staff here for most of the day. She needs a proper outlet."