Chapter Two: Beauxbatons

Craning my neck to get a good view out of the window, I watched as our carriage, which was at the front of the procession, approach a pair of pearly white gates that swung open magically. Emilie put away the leftover chocolate frogs she had been sharing with me, and after much petting and treats, I managed to persuade Émeraude to get back in his cage. Because the carriages glided so smoothly along the path, I had to look out the window to check whether we had stopped yet. The carriage door opened, and a painfully thin woman entered, followed by a gust of warm air.

"First-years, you will leave your belonging on the carriage and follow me into the Palace of Beauxbatons, where you will be sorted," she announced without bothering to look at any of the students she was addressing. "After that you will be lead to your dorms by your house prefects to change into your robes before dinner." She gave us what I presumed was supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a grimace before walking out the door and leaving the occupants of the carriage to scramble after her. We almost had to run to keep up with her large strides, and as we reached the huge gold doors, which lead us into the castle, Emilie caught up with me, panting slightly.

"Someone tripped over my bag and sent things flying everywhere. Had to sprint to catch up with the group – is she late or something?" Emilie moaned; she was a head shorter than me, and her legs were quite tiny so she had to jog to keep up. We walked through the huge entrance hall, barely having enough time to take in the breathtaking view before we were whisked down three identical corridors that came in quick succession, and came to a halt outside a polished ebony door. We had all been jogging or walking incredibly fast, so when we suddenly stopped a few people walked into each other and started bickering loudly.

"Quiet," the teacher called impatiently, and the voices died away. "I am Mrs Bourque, teacher of the fine art that is Divination. In a couple of minutes you will enter past this door and be sorted into one of the four houses: Feuxamour, Mereau, Soldoué and Ventair." She opened the door a few inches and squeezed through, which wasn't hard with her stick-like frame, and snapped it shut before anyone could what was inside. As soon as she disappeared, there was an outbreak of whispering and murmuring about what was going to happen next.

"Any idea how we get sorted?" Emilie asked me, chewing her bottom lip nervously. "My parents said they couldn't tell me, not matter how hard I pleaded."

"Same here – mine wouldn't let on either. Wonder if we'll need our wands," I thought aloud, taking mine out of my shoulder bag. Emilie opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a loud, sneering voice.

"This is a waste of time," a short, curvy girl with a blonde pixie cut and dark blue eyes scoffed, rattling the doorknob of the ebony door which was, of course, locked. The doorknob was in the shape of a lion, and when she touched it, it came alive and bit her middle finger firmly. "Ow! It's only gone and bitten my hand off, the damn thing. Full of crap, just like that stupid teacher, Mrs bloody Bourque." Everyone had gone quiet to listen to the loud exclamations from this rude girl, who clearly loved the attention. "Papa told me that he went to school with her, hardly had two brain cells to stitch together, the loony. Of course, what can you expect from a Mudblood?"

"Shut up!" a boy standing behind her suddenly yelled, going pink in the face. The girl whirled around to face him, a leering grin forming on her face. A chubby girl around my height grabbed the boy's bag and handed it to the first girl, who found the label.

"Nicolas Bourque, huh? I didn't know she had a son. How proud you must be, having her for a mama!" She and the chubby girl started laughing coldly, encouraging other students who obviously either despised Muggle-borns, or didn't want to get on the wrong side of the bullies, to laugh along with them. The girl tossed the bag aside, losing interest and went back to staring at the door. "This is pointless – I know all about the sorting, so there's no need for me to be waiting."

"Of course you do," Emilie said sarcastically. She meant to say it in an undertone to me, but since the girl wasn't talking and everyone else was silent, it ended up being quite loud. And everyone heard it.

"Are you challenging me?" the girl said, walking up to Emilie menacingly. "Do you think you know more than I do?"

"I never said that – but you seem to be under the impression that you are better than everyone else here," Emilie retaliated, stepping up to the girl; they were the same height, so neither could tower over the other. "If you're so superior, then why don't you offer to be sorted first, er…?"

"Chantal Chevalier," the girl spat. "A name you'd do well to remember. Don't bother me with yours; I don't think I care enough to know." Emilie looked as if she might hit her, but luckily the door opened at that moment and as people noticed surged forward eagerly, no one noticed me grab Emilie and drag her away from Chantal.

"I hope shrivels up and dies, that dirty little –" she muttered, cursing her under her breath. I rolled my eyes and paid attention to what Mrs Bourque was saying, who had emerged from behind the door once more.

"…wait until your name has been called until you enter the room, where you will be sorted. Be warned, if your name wasn't called and you try to enter the room, the doorknob won't be afraid to bite you," she said, the beginning of her sentence having been drowned out by the amount of whispering amongst the students. I was grinned to myself when I saw Chantal eye the doorknob with distaste, and cradle her finger protectively. We were made to line up against the wall in single file, which only made me more nervous of what was behind the door.

"André, Roselle," Mrs Bourque called the first student forward, a tiny girl with curly hair tied in a messy bun.

"Bellenger, Clément." A pale, gangly boy with long, ginger hair and a face full of freckles hurried to the door, looking close to tears as he wrenched open the door.

"Bourque, Nicolas." Face now devout of redness, the good-looking boy brushed his short, mousy hair out of his sparkling green eyes as he walked briskly up to the door, accompanied by an encouraging smile from him mama.

"Emilie Broussard." Emilie looked at me nervously, and I gave her the thumbs up as she opened the door and hastily slipped inside.

"Cartier, Marc." I assumed the boy had been at the back of the queue, as it took him a while to reach the door; huffing and puffing as he pounded his chubby feet against the floor.

"Fatty," I heard Chantal whisper behind me, which sounded quite ironic to me considering how fat she and her friends were.

"Chevalier, Chantal." She smirked as she swaggered up to the door and pushed it open with a hard shove; I wondered if I was the only one who saw her hands shaking. Out of all the students that had gone past the door into the unseen room, not a trace of them had been seen afterward; which didn't help the unsettling feeling in my stomach.

"Delacour, Fleur." I clenched my teeth together, and mustered all my will to keep my body from shaking like it so badly wanted to as I crossed over to the tall, ebony door. I eased the door open and walked into the room beyond uneasily.