Fleur Delacour had a quarter Veela bloodline. Her mother was a pure-blood witch, and her father was an official at the French Ministry of Magic.
Her Veela bloodline gave her naturally captivating looks and magical allure. Combined with talent far beyond those her age, it had made her a very proud young witch.
Ever since she was little, she had wanted the best things and wanted to do the best things.
So when she heard that some people who documented her beauty and talent had slandered her as nothing more than a pretty face, she did not hesitate to join the delegation to Hogwarts to prepare for this Triwizard Tournament.
She also wanted to prove that she possessed more than beauty—that she was an outstanding witch.
Besides wanting to prove herself, she had another reason for joining the delegation: she was interested in the legendary Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was a young wizard several years younger than her, yet he had already become a legendary figure in wizarding history.
The youngest Potions Master, someone who had defeated Voldemort several times, the inventor of countless great creations, and so on...
Any one of those honors bestowed upon a wizard could create a miracle, let alone when that wizard was only fourteen or fifteen years old.
So Fleur wanted to get to know Harry and grow closer to him.
After all, Fleur was a proud person, and she had high standards for her other half. Perhaps once she matured further, she would seek a partner whose soul resonated with hers.
But for now, she simply wanted better—the best.
That was right. Fleur proudly believed that among everyone her age in the Wizarding World, only Harry Potter was worthy of her.
So she left the Ravenclaw table, walked over to the Gryffindor table,