Author's Note: First and foremost, I do not own any of the HP universe. I imagined these OCs over a decade ago and am just here trying to finish up their story.

Second, this is an AU story in which Oliver Wood is a year younger than in canon. Don't ask me why – I thought he was cute when I started writing this in middle school (I still do, so there's one thing that hasn't changed) and thought I'd bend the rules of the universe to have my way.

Third, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy…let me know of anything you like about it or any spots that look crumbly and in need of repair. In my defense, I'm throwing this on the site mostly unedited, because I felt that I'd waited way too long to complete it and in doing so, let my few lovely readers down. To anyone who read this way back when, I hope you enjoy some closure. To everyone else, thanks for reading and excuse the shoddy craftsmanship of 23-year-old me fixing up the loose fictional thoughts of 12-year-old me.


The carriage that had formerly held the select students of Beauxbatons Academy now sat still on the makeshift runway beside the castle. Bewildered but disciplined enough to keep their personal concerns to themselves, the students stood in polite silence in lines as their headmistress stepped down from the oversized vehicle. Really, Hogwarts was no more magical than their palace of an academy in Southern France. But then, it's different to have a man four times your size come to lead the winged horses away when you're accustomed to serenading wood nymphs and ice masterpieces.

"We shall make our entranze at zee castle now," Madame Maxime announced, her voice thick and cloaked shoulders pointy.

The students made no sign to show they had heard her, but followed with politely indifferent faces as she led the way slowly up the steep grassy hill now slick and squelching with mud. Her long-time favorite, Fleur Delacour, strode briskly in her wake, trying to make up the difference in their height with impatience. With elite style, beauty, and a touch of completely impractical elegance, Beauxbatons had arrived. They would be anything but low maintenance visitors.


The great hall echoed not only with the growls of hungry stomachs but the low hum of excitement. Dumbledore had just announced that they would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament, and the cavernous hall had almost immediately burst into conversation. A dichotomy quickly emerged between those who knew what the tournament was already and those who did not, and the former were already jostling amongst themselves to prove who knew more. More than anything, the idea of a dangerous opportunity, quite likely riskier and more exciting than Quidditch, had the student body's full attention. Most had yet to experience anything that memorable, and looked forward eagerly to a chance to become (well...almost) as famous as Harry Potter.

"Please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic," Dumbledore shouted over the titter of whispering voices, seemingly oblivious to social battlefield on the other side of his podium.

Hi timing was more strategic than it seemed. The doors at the end of the hall were thrust open just as hundreds of heads snapped in their direction. Madame Maxime towered over her uniformly dressed students as they strutted down the center of the room, flaunting the fairy-like beauty that seemed to accompany each perfectly groomed face. Their headmistress might have been partial to acting younger than she should, but for better or for worse, she was an expert at demanding attention. Every one of her girls had been carefully selected for grades, fitness, beauty; they were arranged by aesthetic. More striking girls had been placed at the front of the group, her toted doll face, Fleur, by her side. Each student's hair was pulled back neatly but in an attractive ponytail, each placed in formation except the student at her side.

The girls ran down the aisle in choreographed grace, followed by Fleur and her sister. The younger flipped neat back handsprings and back walkovers, Fleur turning graceful ballet turns beside her. Both of them were only as talented as any other student, but had something that nudged them just a notch above everyone else: the elusive favor of Madame Maxime. The rest were present largely to complement Fleur, who Madame had decided years earlier would be, to the world, the perfect example of what Beauxbatons had to offer. The pretty part-veela girl strode confidently down the aisle, head proudly in the air.

Music that had materialized from no where to accompany their performance faded, and the Hogwarts students applauded loudly. Most of the male population was doing the clapping (and whistling, for that matter), as the girls merely put their hands together for the sake of politeness.

The girls stood to the side as the Durmstrang boys entered, replacing them as the main focus of attention. Fleur followed Maxime as the other students were ushered aside. Although the focus of Hogwarts may have been on the Durmstrang boys, Beauxbaton's girls were instead returning to their favorite topic of conversation.

"Good lord, look at her standing there like she's all that."

"I can't believe we're even pretending this is fair."

"I so wish that was me."

"What's so special about being part-veela?"

Careful not to be heard by their headmistress, the girls gossiped without limit to each other about the scorned Fleur. It was no secret that Madame Maxime was only going to allow Fleur to become champion, selection process or not.

After the heavily clothed Durmstrang students and their Quidditch star Viktor Krum had made their entrance, it was time to begin the feast. Madame Maxime gestured briefly with one hand, releasing her students to find their own seats. They followed Fleur anyway, knowing this was an unspoken command. The blonde girl took up residence at an extra length of table added to Ravenclaw. Obediently, the rest followed, a few glancing longingly toward the Durmstrang boys seated among the Slytherins.

Fleur taken up a post at the end of the table closest to the teachers, in clear view of Madame Maxime. Her few 'associates', as she didn't really have friends, sat around her and her sister. The other students filled in any empty space.

At the end of the table farthest Fleur sat three girls. As they took their seats next to each other, the first of them spoke.

"Thank God that's over."

The girl already sitting across from her nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. The third cracked a small smile, and after making sure her headmistress wasn't looking, began happily mocking her friend.

"Did you honestly see yourself back there, Dani?" She said, her voice crackling with amusement.

She drew herself up to full height (it wasn't much; she was the shortest of the three) and began imitating the melodramatic sighs that had characterized the group walk down the aisle.

Dani, the first girl, had been the one leading the group. Her straight black hair fell to the middle of her back, blue eyes bright and a deceiving complement to her constant smirk. She was fit from the physical classes required at the academy in a lean, unintentional sort of way that was at once enviable and deeply irritating to her classmates, a fact of which she was wholly aware.

"That whole show was bloody ridiculous," she said, but she was smiling as she scanned the still-glazed male faces of the crowd.

A few of the girls sitting closest to them shot over sympathizing looks to the conversation, though none dared to contribution for fear of Madame's wrath.

There was the distinct sound of a stomach growling before the smallest girl spoke up again.

"Mmmm…," She moaned, clutching her stomach in fake agony, "When's the food served?"

As if on cue, the empty golden dishes before them filled with mouthwatering food. Some were French delicacies that the girls were familiar with, others heavy and crude-looking Northern foods, and many meat pies and dishes that looked in the middle of the two extremities. The hungry girl began systematically filling each section of her plate with a different food, regardless of variety. The girls sitting closest to Fleur wore arrogant looks of disgust as they carefully placed only the lightest of dishes on their own plates.

"Aimee, you'll get a stomachache," said their third friend.

It was the first time she'd spoken since they'd arrived, and even as she said it, she was looking elsewhere, scanning the room as though for threats, only commenting as though compelled by reflex.

Aimee looked doubtfully at the messily sliced piece of steak she was about to place in her mouth before asking, "Why?"

There was beat while the third girl's attention snapped in from the distance.

"Because your stomach is only used to eating the light foods they serve back at school," She said, "Heavy food fills you up faster."

Aimee frowned.

"Alright…I'll only eat a bit."

She seemed disappointed, though it was short-lived.

"There's dessert, right?"

She cracked a grin good-naturedly and Dani smirked at her from across the table.

Aimee was the smallest of the three girls. She was the backup to Fleur's sister, equally capable if not more so of turning handsprings and back walkovers, and had been chosen to come to the tournament mostly for that reason. She had naturally platinum blonde hair to rival the Delacours and their veela grandmother, but had it cut at her shoulders, so that it just barely fit in the small ponytail. She had big dark brown eyes that had gotten her out of trouble more then once, and although she was in reality a full year older than Dani, she looked so much younger they treated her as a younger sister anyway.

"I wonder where we'll be staying," Dani said.

"In the carriage," said the third girl flatly, cleaning off her plate.

"Eww…" Aimee said, voice dropping to a disgusted whisper.

"I know, who wants to stay in that smelly old thing," said Dani.

"No…that man just stabbed the other man's hand with a fork."

The other two followed her gaze to the staff table.

"Oh that is so gross…" Dani mumbled, covering her mouth with one hand and looking suddenly without an appetite.

Aimee giggled at her but continued to eat.

"What arefh we goin-na oo when we get bhack oo a carrage?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Aimee," said the third girl.

Aimee nodded obediently and swallowed.

"What are we going to do when we get back to the carriage, Lynn?"

Lynn shrugged.

"It's still Madame's carriage so...go to bed?"

Aimee pouted.

"Well that stinks."

"Doesn't nearly every aspect of our lives?" Dani said.

"Actually," Aimee replied smiling, "I do kind of like these hats." She gestured toward the stylish blue hats that they all wore as uniform. "They're wicked cool."

The other two broke out laughing.

The main dishes disappeared, and various desserts appeared in their place.

"I have a question," Aimee announced to her two friends midway through her second large helping of ice cream.

"Go on then," Dani said.

"What's Quidditch?"

"Why do you ask?" said Lynn, confused.

"I kept hearing the Hogwarts headmaster saying something about them giving up Quidditch for the tournament. They seemed awfully disappointed," said Aimee.

"I'm sure this school has a library, perhaps they have a book about it," Lynn offered.

Quidditch, as much a way of life as it was for Hogwarts and most of the wizarding community, did not exist at Beauxbatons. The students were told to focus only on their studies, although they did learn to fly brooms. Sports were not considered ladylike behavior, and the strict rules of decorum were a way of life.

"You know normally I would tease you," Dani said, "but I'm not sure that's something we want to let on about not knowing."

Lynn nodded.

Lynn was two years older than Aimee, and was in her seventh and final year, same as Fleur. She too had been a backup, although in her case her place was to step in and dance for Fleur had Fleur not been in the mood for it. She was well aware that the only reason she and Aimee might had been chosen over the Delacours was if the sisters had gotten picky about getting sweat spots before the feast.

As though it mattered; the Beauxbatons uniform was made of such fine silk that they all shivered now in the drafty hall.

Lynn's golden hair was long and had to be tied into a ponytail to look shorter for their uniform entrance. She was shorter than Fleur, but just as pretty with the willowy figure of a dancer. Her eyes were kind and grey, but there was a sense of distance to them and they were somewhat regularly fixed either in the distance or on printed words.

After the feast ended, Dumbledore unveiled the Goblet of Fire and dismissed the students. The Hogwarts students milled about on their own, organizing the newly sorted first years and bustling about with friends. Beauxbatons stood as one and without delay followed Madame Maxime's tall, dragon hide clad form outside to the carriage.