AN: You'll have to forgive me; it's been a while (and by that, I mean like years) since I've read HP and the Goblet of Fire. Or any of them for that matter. And I have yet to read 6 and 7, so any problems with the canon storyline is entirely and totally unintentional, but let's just say they're planned anyway. Also, if anyone would wish to beta the rest of this fic for me, let me know.
Disclaimer: The characters, settings, blah blah all belong to Ms. J.K. Rowling and her many lawyers. No infringement is planned. The only thing I own is the ridiculous re-telling of the fourth book in a highly Fleurmione-oriented way. Enjoy.
The Great Hall was full of the usual excited chatter on the first day of school at Hogwarts. For Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, their Fourth year promised to be a challenging one. The three sat at the Gryffindor table with Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister by a year, discussing the upcoming classes and teachers and what they forgot to tell each other at the Quidditch World Cup.
The chatter changed quickly to a hushed silence when Headmaster Dumbledore stood up at the teachers' table on the other side of the hall. He smiled gratefully at the assemblage of students before speaking.
"On behalf of all the teachers and other staff, I wish to welcome you all to what promises to be another wonderful year at Hogwarts. I have a special announcement to make regarding everyone present, as well as a number who shall be arriving shortly."
This set the entire hall all abuzz once more. It looked like all the years, from Firsts to Sevenths, were present. The teachers were all there too, so who was Dumbledore talking about?
He held up his hands for silence and resumed when it was so.
"I am pleased to announce that Hogwarts has been chosen to be the host school for the Triwizard Tournament. The Tournament is a series of three tasks where one student, a Sixth or Seventh year, represents their school. There is an age restriction due to the fact that it is a dangerous competition. In past Tournaments, Champions have died." A look passed through the students that was a cross between excitement and fear.
"The Champion is rewarded points for each task completed, based on their time compared to the other Champions. At the end of the Third Task, the Champion with the most collected points wins. It is a friendly and good-natured competition between the schools of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. I trust you will all be polite and welcoming to our guests when they arrive as well as during their stay throughout the year. They shall be arriving shortly, and then we will begin the start of the year feast."
He leveled a steady gaze at the students before he turned and resumed his seat at the center of the teachers' table.
The Great Hall filled with even more noises as this new information sank in. At the Gryffindor table, Ron started talking about what he knew of the two schools.
"Durmstrang is an all-boys school, and Beauxbatons is an all-girls school from somewhere in France."
Hermione was half listening, but Ron's mention of France made her remember the time she spent in Paris over the summer. She had several happy memories from the country.
"And how do you know this?" asked a very curious Harry. "My dad works for the Ministry, remember? Besides, it's not like they're hidden or private schools or anything."
From there the discussion turned to whether they'd have any chances with the girls from Beauxbatons. Hermione rolled her eyes at them and started a conversation with Ginny about the boys of Durmstrang. Conversations similar to the ones they were having were being held all over the Great Hall with varying degrees of seriousness.
The conversations stopped abruptly as the doors to the Great Hall burst open to reveal a monstrously tall woman in a red coat with feathers at the neck and wrists standing behind them looking out into the Hall. She walked in and strode towards the teachers' table where Dumbledore was standing, a smile on his face.
"Ah, bonjour, Madame Maxime. It is good to see you again. Students, I present Madame Maxime, headmistress of Beauxbatons School, and her students, our welcome guests."
Outside the door, two lines of girls wearing pale blue traveling dresses had formed and began walking into the Hall. They took ten steps, gave a musical sigh and bowed to the right side of the Hall, butterflies the color of their dresses floating up from them as they did so. They took ten more steps and did the same to the left side. They then continued to the head of the Hall, where they branched off to either side of their headmistress through a series of spins and sighs.
Dumbledore started speaking about how wonderful it was to have them and how honored Hogwarts was, but for once Hermione wasn't listening. She was too busy being captivated by a tall, slender, blonde-haired Beauxbaton a little to Madame Maxime's left. From where Hermione was sitting, she cold see that her tantalizing center of attention had piercing eyes of the truest shade of blue.
The young witch was instantly enamored with the older witch who was looking about with am air of casual disinterest. Hermione's eyes were glued to the French beauty with an almost hungry look in them. It was only when the focus of her attention looked at her, met her gaze with cool blue, and raised her eyebrows in surprise did Hermione realize what was going on and avert her gaze to elsewhere.
Luckily for her, it was a moment later that the students from Durmstrang arrived and arrested the attention of the Hall. She shut her eyes for a minute and realized that she had stopped breathing, and that her heart was going a mile a minute. She didn't even hear Ron's excited exclamation over one of the Durmstrang boys who was apparently Viktor Krum.
At the same time, the blonde Beauxbaton was having similar problems. She had been taking in her surroundings casually, realizing how boring this whole affair would prove itself to be. It was when she locked eyes with the brunette heart stopper that had been staring at her did her heart respond by beating a bit faster and her breathing quicken a pace.
Well, she mused, this isn't going to be quite as boring as I imagined…