The Great hall is filled with the usual clatter of breakfast. Sitting here, and eating, still felt awkward to me. I was used to Beauxbatons' refined version for meals and table etiquettes, even during regular breakfasts. So I still couldn't wrap my head - and fingers - around just one set of fork, knife and spoon for the whole meal.
Beside me, Roger was going on in full swing about how beautiful I looked even after being attacked and scratched by grindylows in the second task. Like that was the only thing that mattered as the result of my failure in that task. Not the fact that I couldn't reach Gabrielle when my little sister - my most precious treasure - was tied to a statue underwater and was supposed to be rescued by me in time, only for me to be taken down by a bunch of lake creatures. Like "how shiny my hair glowed because of black lake water" was more important than saving your little sister and scraping through the challenge, hoping that by force of willpower and some dumb luck, I will not disappoint Madame Maxime and my parents by not winning the tri-wizard cup. Because, frankly, against an international - almost worshipped - quidditch seeker, an ace wizard at the age of 17 and the boy who lived, my chances of winning are as slim as my fingers; which was now the center of Roger's admiration. "Your elegantly petite fingers makes these cutlery look so beautiful and... Use worthy!", he exclaimed, pleased with himself, like he has just found a word worthy of being included in Ancient Wizard Word Spells and Dictionary.
"Zat ees very sweet of you to say, Roger", I replied, in my most practised tone to placate an admirer, but my heavy accent tells me that my mind is still otherwise occupied, even after making sure to have a good beauty sleep - my mom's answer to stress. Giving up on the hope of getting distracted by Roger's flattery, I let my attention drift to tonight's event, effectively tuning out another string of complements on my "long silvery gold mane of hairs like a dreamy, golden unicorn".
The final task of tri-wizard tournament. Just the thought makes my stomach dip and my hands sweaty. I cannot remember being this nervous ever in my life, or for my life. I just knew that I would tolerate any amount of disappointed words from Madame Maxime and my parents if I somehow managed to get out of this tournament, alive and intact. But after facing a dragon - albeit human friendly - and being taken magnificently down by lake grindylows, this was looking to be a big, unattainable goal to be achieved.
Goals. At 17, not many expected a girl like me to have any concrete goals. They assumed me to be as much of a fairy princess as I looked, waiting for a knight in shining armour to ride from moors and save me from the big bad world and ride with me into sunset with onlookers waving and sniffling. The analogy turned my stomach. But what had my heart stuttering was the fact that I might not be able to prove them wrong if I didn't survive tonight. The world would think of me as a delicate princess unwittingly volunteering for a dangerous game, only to die, as prince charmings were not allowed in such tournaments. I squeezed my eyes shut to banish that thought.
Only to have Roger complement my pretty frown looking like a crinkle in silk. Urgh.
And sitting there, in that moment, I vowed that if I come out of this tournament alive, I would show the world that I was not just a pretty face to be oogled and complemented. I would, somehow, make my life have a meaning, a cause. I would make sure people like and respect me for anything except my beauty.
My internal musing and Roger's external sputtering is suddenly interrupted by the professor in green robes, glasses and a permanent stern expression, it seems. Professor McGonagall, I believe her name is. "Ms. Delacour, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she said in a clear voice that reflected the patience of a professor well used to dealing with teenagers. Her words, however, sent a bolt of anxiety through me, making my accent heavier. "Ees zat sometheeng to do with ze tazk tonight, Madame?"
"Oh no, Ms. Delacour. As you know, the task will be informed to you mere minutes before it starts. However, the champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them", she replied before drifting towards Gryffindor tables.
The words made my nerves jump up a few notches. My parents are here! The thought made me jittery with both excitement and nerves. Unable to eat anymore breakfast, I get up from the table, ignoring Roger stand up with me, when I see Cedric walking towards door located just off the Great Hall. I cross the room and join him to the back chamber. The chamber was big enough to hold at least 50 families. As soon as we enter, Cedric is nearly tackled to the floor by what seemed like a much older version of himself in yellow robes, an older pretty woman following him with a laugh. Cedric's parents. In another corner of the room, I spot another couple with dark hairs and judging by the man's hooked nose, these were Krum's parents. Released from bear hug, Cedric sends a polite smile and nod to people standing in the far end of the chamber and poked his head out to inform Harry that his family is waiting for him. Curious to see Harry's family - since I knew he is an orphan- I turn, but was interrupted by Gabrielle's sweet voice calling my name.
I rush towards my family. Gabrielle stood there, holding my mother's hand. As I reach them, my mother wraps her arms around me delicately for a second, before releasing me and giving my cheeks sophisticated air kisses. Gabrielle hugs me more enthusiastically and I plant a smacking kiss on her cheeks, then turn to my mother. "Hello Maman, Dad busy again?"
"I am afraid yes, papillon ," my mother replied in a musical voice. "Tell me cher , 'ow close ees your chances to winning eet?", she asked in her usual to-the-point style. Right then I hear door open and in walks Harry. I wave at him warmly, still indebt to him for saving Gabrielle. And to avoid answering her question, I launch into the tale of heroic Harry saving Gabrielle in full fledged French, which is bound to distract my mother.
As I recount the second task to her, I notice the subject of the tale smiling broadly and walking up to the people at the far corner of the room.
There stands, a plump older woman with bushy red hairs, her face showing her years of experience, but still radiant with internal warmth, and a boy.
It is apparant that neither boy nor the woman is related to Harry by any stretch of imagination, but the warmth on Harry's face said it didn't matter at all. The boy has his back to me, but even then I can tell he is rather good looking with flaming red hair long enough to reach his neck and tall with broad muscular shoulders. Suddenly, he turned his head in my direction, seeming to check out the portraits of the wall around us, and my breath catches in my throat. He really is as beautiful as anyone would imagine a prince charming to be. Bright, happy faced with set of wide, sparkling blue eyes he was epitome of a knight in rock star outfit. But the fang that adorned one of his ear lobe and dragon hide boots gave him a bad boy demeanor. It was such a rare combination that I could do nothing but eye him for a long time from across the room. He didn't seem to notice me, his attention on his mother, eyeing her with curious amazement though laughter lurked in depths of his eyes.
Suddenly, his eyes snagged mine as he passed by me towards the chamber door following his mother and Harry. Even though it lasted for a couple of seconds, I saw a flash of curious admiration in his eyes. It was a familiar look from boys for me. And I knew that it was only because of the pretty face given to me by my ancestors, but something about his look gave me a flip in the stomach, like it was the first time anyone was truly looking at me. Then the moment is over and he went out of the door closing it behind him, leaving me standing there staring at the closed door.
it was then that I knew that I need to survive the tournament tonight. Because my gut told me that this is not the last time I will be seeing those sparkling blue eyes. And when I saw them the next time, I will do whatever it takes to make them sparkle with same admiration it did just then, only for a reason other than my beauty.