The blunt declaration caused the courtroom to descend into stunned silence.
Whether the rest of the courtroom was simply surprised, shocked into silence by the brashness of the declaration, or aghast at the possibility of seeing their "national hero" (a title which still had the power to cause Harry to shake his head in disbelief, given the shots he had absorbed from those same people) betrothed to a foreign witch, it was impossible to say. Although he certainly caught the expressions of the rest of the room, Harry was, understandably, concerned with his own questions.
How could this have happened? What did this stranger mean by claiming a marriage contract to some witch he had never met? Were such archaic traditions still followed in the magical world?
To this last question, Harry was forced to admit, somewhat ruefully, that the possibility for such antiquated traditions were not only possible, but given the things he had seen and experienced since he had discovered the magical world, he was not surprised to learn they still existed.
Harry Potter had never given much thought to his future and—other than a few idle hours, wiled away in which he had indulged himself in the contemplation of the various females of his acquaintance—had certainly never given serious consideration to the question of who would ultimately become Mrs. Potter. The thought of marriage not only had never really occurred to him, but it was also something which consciously or not, he had considered unappealing early in his life, no doubt largely due to the only example he had ever witnessed: the married life of his aunt and uncle. They had always, in his memory, been largely argumentative, and he could never remember any instances of spousal felicity or shows of affection. In fact, other than their shared propensity toward making him feel worthless and consigning him to a miserable existence, they had never actually shown any common goals or interests, making him wonder why they had married in the first place.
His only other example was slightly better in execution, as the Weasley parents were at least friendly with each other and focused on their family and the importance of that family in their lives. It was a different portrait to be certain, but hardly a more reassuring one to Harry's mind—after all, although they were certainly more harmonious than his aunt and uncle, it was also obvious who was in charge of the relationship. Harry hesitated at labeling Mrs. Weasley as loud and overbearing—she had been remarkably kind toward him in the time he had known her—but he knew she was a strong-willed woman, used to getting her own way, whereas her husband was generally content to coast along, allowing her to put herself forward, while he allowed himself to slip into more of a support role. Harry was very fond of the Weasleys—he was simply not excited about emulating their relationship.
So with Harry's examples of marital felicity, it was hardly to be wondered that young Harry was not enamored of the thought of marriage but had also—perhaps subconsciously—wondered if finding a wife was even worth it at all.
And now he was all but engaged to be married, without his consent… and to some witch he had never met. And furthermore, he did not even know her name! How was he supposed to feel when confronted with such a situation? Was there any way out of it? Was this man another fortune seeker, bent on a connection with the infamous Boy-Who-Lived? Or was he playing some other game?
Then again, this stranger must have some reason for not only agreeing to enact such a scheme (with Sirius's help no less!) but also accepting this marriage contract, given Harry's well-documented troubles with the aforementioned insane and powerful wizard. A fortune seeker would have to be unbalanced to consider an alliance in the face of such danger.
Harry did not know what to think.
Just as the inevitable pandemonium began, Harry noticed the stranger peering at him with a kindly expression on his face; the action worked to reassure Harry somewhat that—whatever the man's reasoning was for this interference—his reasons for revealing this marriage contract were not intended to be detrimental to Harry's future. Given all that was going on in his life, the thought was comforting. Then again, appearances could be deceiving.
"Is anything wrong, Harry?" the man asked in a quiet voice, ignoring the rising noise around them.
"Marriage contract?" Harry managed to squeak out.
Jean-Sebastian shrugged. "Not exactly common any longer, but certainly not out of the ordinary either. Surely you had some indication such a thing was possible."
"I'm sorry, sir," Harry said with a shake of his head, "I didn't know. I've been raised by Muggles, and sometimes I'm still surprised by some of the old-fashioned things in the wizarding world…"
Frowning at Harry's comment, Jean-Sebastian stared at him in deep contemplation, causing Harry to become self-conscious. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, the nervous energy escaping despite his best efforts to keep it controlled.
"It's all right, Harry," Jean-Sebastian responded, his tone soothing and a smile once more on his face. "I was not aware of your lack of knowledge. We will have to work on your education once we are away from this place."
"Is there any way out of it?" Harry blurted, realizing immediately it was the wrong thing to say when a dark expression came over Jean-Sebastian's face.
"I'm sorry," Harry said somewhat nervously, not wanting to offend his benefactor. "This is just all so… new to me. I mean… I've never thought…"
"I don't even know your daughter," he finished, somewhat lamely, after a short pause.
Jean-Sebastian chuckled quietly, his amusement immediately replacing his momentary displeasure. "Do not worry; I am not offended. I can see we have much to discuss, my young friend, and you have much to learn."
At Harry's nod of agreement, Jean-Sebastian reached out and grasped his shoulder, squeezing it slightly in a comforting gesture. "As for not knowing my daughter, I assure you, she is not unknown to you."
Harry regarded him uncertainly, wondering who he could possibly mean.
"My apologies, young Mr. Potter; allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jean-Sebastian Delacour, French Ambassador to the International Confederation of Wizards. This marriage contract engages you to my daughter, Fleur, with whom I believe you are acquainted through the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year at Hogwarts."
"ORDER!"
At that moment they were interrupted by Minister Fudge, who was banging his gavel on the desk in front of him, yelling for the Wizengamot to come to order. But Harry, shocked as he was by the suddenly revealed identity of his mysterious benefactor and his newly betrothed, heard none of it.
Fleur Delacour? Is that who I'm engaged to?
Thoughts whirled around in his head, flitting from images of a beautiful young woman entering the great hall of Hogwarts for the first time and drawing the eyes of every young man (and many not so young) to a bedraggled Fleur freshly emerged from the cold of the lake, hugging him tightly in thanks for rescuing her sister. That was who he was now tied to by this contract?