Author's Note: I wonder if anyone actually reads this story. Regardless, here is the fourth chapter. I feel it is a little rushed, but I really couldn't help it much. I had lots of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy and please do review!

Chapter Four
Supervenio
(To Arrive)

The rush and confusion of the next two days overshadowed Rhian's concern about her last encounter with David Hollingberry. The Beauxbaton and Durmstrang students would be arriving today and all of Hogwarts was on edge. Classes had been cancelled, as the professors knew it was hopeless to try and get the students to pay attention to their work. Instead, students were mulling about their dormitories, common rooms, and a rather large crowd was gathered in the Great Hall, hoping that they would be closest when their visitors arrived.

Rhian and Morgan sat on Morgan's bed playing a game of Wizard's Chess, while Sophia and Stephanie hurried combing their hair and pinching their cheeks, trying to add a blush to their somewhat pail skin.

"Why all the primping, s?" Morgan asked, waiting as Rhian's knight finished wiping the dust from the board.

"French men, Morgan, French men." Stephanie sighed, pulling her hair up into an elegant bun. Rhian huffed, laughing slightly.

"French men are just like any other men, Steph," she informed her.

"Just because you lived in France for a couple of years doesn't make you an expert on French men," Sophia tutted and continued pinching her cheeks.

"Yes, but I do know quite a few French men, and I know that they can be just as stuck up, just as arrogant—perhaps even more rude than your average Englishman." Rhian retorted, moving her queen into a checkmate. She smiled before she looked up at Sophia, who looked rather annoyed.

"Why must you ruin all the fun, Rhian?" she asked. "Why can't you just let us enjoy getting excited about foreign men coming, instead of being all…pessimistic?" Rhian was surprised at Sophia's seriousness. She'd forgotten that Sophia McQuillen was capable of being serious, but then again she was a Ravenclaw after all and did get considerably good marks so she couldn't be silly all the time.

"I do not know…" Rhian replied slowly.

"Just because men have been ruined for you, for whatever reason," Stephanie said, suddenly serious as well, "doesn't mean that they have to be ruined for us. Besides, it is just a bit of fun. We are just trying to live a little before our families push an arranged marriage on us."

"Would your parents really do that?" Morgan asked, a little surprised. Perhaps she, being a muggleborn, had thought that marriage customs in the wizarding world might be a little different.

"Of course they would," Sophia said with a little frown. "That's why we have to do everything that we can to find someone that we like that fits our parents standards. That way, if we are lucky enough to be good enough for our preferred wizard, we can have a happier marriage."

"I wasn't thinking of that, Sophia, honest," Rhian apologized. "I keep forgetting that we are quickly approaching that stage in our lives. I just hope my grandmother will be sympathetic towards my wishes."

"Wait," Morgan looked around, confused. They had never really had this conversation before in all their years together, and Rhian hadn't even thought about marriage since…

"What stage is that? What age do wizarding families normally arrange their children's marriages?" Morgan asked, looking dazed.

"Usually right out of Hogwarts," Sophia replied. "Or sometimes they have it planned in our fifth or sixth year here. But they try to keep it secret from the couple so that they don't get in any trouble before the wedding."

"Mother says those are usually the happiest marriages," Stephanie said matter-of-factly. "Because they usually choose a man who is a bit older and can take better care of us. But my parents still haven't made a decision yet, so I'm free to look a little longer on my own."

"Mine either." Sophia said with a bemused smile. "They've been a little busy trying to marry my brother off. He's a bit of an embarrassment."

"But do all wizarding families do this?" Morgan asked, a panicked blush finding its way to her pale face. "I do not want to be out of place. My parents are a little more modern, and they prefer that I find someone from the wizarding world. Actually, they just will not be bothered with it because I am an embarrassment."

"Not to worry, Morgan," Rhian said, patting Morgan's hand lightly. "Not all wizarding families still practice arranged marriages; usually only the older pureblood families. There will still be plenty of dashing young men for you to choose from when the time comes."

This seemed to calm Morgan's nerves, and she proceeded to clean up their game of Chess.

"Well, if you s are off to look for prospective husbands, I think I will join you." Rhian said with a very serious expression, walking to the vanity to brush through her long black hair before she put it back up.

"You are mocking us," Sophia said, looking closely as Rhian's face. Rhian looked back at her.

"Hard to tell, is it not?" she replied with a smile. "Well, maybe you are right. But I enjoy a handsome face just like anyone else, so I think I will join you in waiting for our 'dashing French men.' I've had quite enough of studying for one day, as it is."

-&-

The Great Hall was a sea of chattering students from all houses, all of which were discussing the upcoming Tournament, the visiting schools and, of course, members of the opposite gender from said visiting schools (though not limited to those from said visiting schools).

Joining their fellow housemates at the Ravenclaw table Rhian, Sophia, Stephanie and Morgan fell comfortably into the closest conversation.

"I heard that Professor Rousseau from Beauxbatons asked Professor Fortesque if he could have a tower in Hogwarts all to himself so that he wouldn't have to deal with his own bratty students." Fanny Elliot said, pretending to be finishing up an essay.

"Where in the world did you hear something like that?" Jane Clayworth asked, looking up from her Potions books.

"I heard Professor Leatherby talking to Professor Lynch about it in the hallway after dinner last night." Fanny replied, scratching a sentence onto her parchment.

"I wonder how they will arrive this year," Jean Hethro mumbled thoughtfully into her hand, blowing the strands of the hair which had escaped from her bun away from her eyes. "Last time the Durmstrang's used the whole boat in the lake appearance, and personally that is getting rather old. They've been doing that one for years."

"I am very much looking forward to Beauxbatons arriving. They always have an original arrival." Denise Gordon said thickly, having just eaten a custard-filling pastry.

"Hullo, Jane," Jacob Clayworth called as he approached the Ravenclaw table. Jane looked up from her book, a smile covering her small face.

"Hullo Jacob," she called back. "Excited?"

"Excessively so," he said, taking a seat beside her, across from Rhian.

"Miss Lleynwell," he smiled at her, making the other s glare slightly out of jealousy. "How are we this fine evening?"

"Perfectly fine, Mr. Clayworth," Rhian said, trying not to show her annoyance. "And you?"

"Significantly better." If she hadn't known better, she would have thought that he had winked at her, but she knew that it was just a trick of the light, so she thought nothing of it. Mostly because she did not want to think on it. A change of subject was in order, she decided.

"You are going to put your name in the goblet, I gather?"

"Of course." He continued to smile. She continued to squirm.

"Any idea how the Beauxbatons will arrive?"

"None in the slightest." She was becoming very uncomfortable now. Had he no sense of propriety? Did not he know how rude it was to just sit there, staring stupidly at a young lady? She looked over at Sophia, who was glaring at her, eyes pleading for help. Sophia, who finally got the hint that Rhian was not at all interested in Jacob, smiled. Genuinely smiled. Rhian was not exactly sure why—Sophia supposedly fancied Jeremiah Hathaway. But it did not matter to Rhian, as long as she could distract Jacob.

"Jacob, have you seen Jeremiah this morning?" Sophia asked.

"Earlier. I have no idea where he is now." His eyes did not leave Rhian's face, though he smile was more of a smirk now.

"I thought perhaps he might have a better guess at to when the other schools would arrive." Sophia tried again.

"Perhaps he might," Jacob replied. His jaw was set in defiance. Rhian concluded that there was definitely something wrong with this boy. He was staring her down! Was he still upset about the History of Magic ordeal? Or had some spirit possessed him? No, it was more likely a dare of some sort, though Rhian couldn't figure out what the point might be.

"Jacob, have you any idea how rude it is to stare at a respectable young lady like that?" Sophia questioned in a scolding manner, looking at Jane for help. Jane looked confused as well.

"Yes, I have,' replied Jacob, his lips twitching. Rhian looked about, gathering her things. If Jacob couldn't act like a normal human being, she would simply remove herself from the situation.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Clayworth," she said, standing up. "When next we meet, I would hope that you would have a better show of manners."

Looking back right before she exited the Great Hall, Rhian saw that Sophia and the rest had resumed conversation, excluding Jacob from it. His cousin was whispering to him, shaking her head. Jacob looked up at Rhian and winked and Rhian, truly annoyed, exited the Hall with a huff. This was no doubt the strangest year the she had ever had at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

-&-

There were very few students out on the grounds, which is why Rhian had decided to venture outside. Most of the students were mulling around by the lake, skipping stones or searching the waters for the usual appearance of the Durmstrang's ship (fondly christened by the Hogwarts students "The Predictable").

The clouds above were growing darker by the minute, threatening rain, though Rhian did not seem to notice as she made her way to the far side of the lake, by the Forest. Sitting down on a rock by the shore, she reached into her bag and pulled out her sketchbook and ink. "Every young lady should learn how to draw, sew, and dance," Rhian's grandmother Lleynwell always told her. Rhian d the dance lessons, and her hands ached with all the sewing she had been required to do—but she didn't mind so much the drawing.

Sketching a quick outline of the lake and students on the other side, she noticed that it was almost too dark to see the castle now. But she wasn't about to give up her view to the rain. It was about half one and she was sure that this would be the only time she would have for drawing for the next few days, as the visiting schools were bound to arrive very soon. Her quill strokes became smaller as she filled in little details, noting the significant shadows and the multiplying waves on the lake. But her picture was disrupted by a red flag at the end of a wooden pole sticking out from the lake in the middle of her view. "The Predictable" had arrived. No sooner had her picture been sprayed with the mist of the ship emerging, than the rest of her was subject to the rain that began to fall. Students began to run back to the castle, more eager to seek shelter than to welcome their guests. Running back herself, Rhian noticed the many faces pressed against the windows of the Great Hall, looking out at the Durmstrang students aboard "The Predictable."

Waving at the now wet Durmstrang students as she passed them, Rhian hurried along, now more wet than dry, as she was too wet to search for her wand in her bag and attempt a waterproofing charm. To her left the Durmstrangs could barely be heard groaning and moaning about the weather, but Rhian's attention was brought to the right, as a figure approached her through the sheet of rain. It was almost too thick to see, but it looked like a cross between a Lethifold and her Potions Master, Professor Morel. She laughed at the irony.

"Professor!" Rhian called through the rain, squinting to see. Blinking the rain out of her eyes, whatever it was, was gone. Potion teachers were a real mystery.

-&-

Rhian and the other students who had been outside when the Durmstrangs arrived were accosted with questions from those students just inside the castle and the Great Hall.

"Are they more handsome this year?" A Hufflepuff asked quietly.

"How many of them, do you suppose?' A Ravenclaw second year was jumping up and down, asking everyone in sight.

"Do they look pretty tough?" A Gryffindor fourth year asked Rhian, puffing his chest out.

"I do not know," Rhian answered, trying to squeeze her way through the crowd while looking through her bag. Taking out her wand, she preformed a drying charm on her robes and hair, (which was now falling out of its neat bun onto her shoulders and down her back) and attempted to straighten her robes.

Just then the Great Oak Doors burst open and several hundred sopping, very unhappy looking Durmstrang students began to file inside. Professor Fortesque, whom Rhian hadn't even noticed was there, was hopping about, greeting Professor Ivanovic, an older wizard with long white hair and a stern expression. Students from both schools began to mingle about, greeting old friends from the last Tournament, and introducing each other to what would hopefully be new friends.

Rhian looked about, trying to find some familiar faces, but she knew that it was probably impossible. Even if she did see anyone she knew they had probably changed so much that she would not recognize them, and vice versa.

"Jacob!" a voice called in her ear, and a rushed past her, almost knocking her over. Looking for the culprit in the crowd, Rhian eyes rested on Jacob Clayworth, who was receiving the hug of a lifetime from a very pretty Durmstrang .

"Katia," Jacob was saying, smiling at the pretty whose big blue eyes were beaming at him. "Come meet my sister and cousin." Jacob led the over to Jane.

"Jane, this is Katia Alkaev from Durmstang Institute," Jacob moved his hand with a flourish. "Katia, this is my cousin Jane Clayworth—oh, and my little sister Mary."

To Rhian's right, Morgan Kelly was greeting an old friend whose name Rhian could never remember—mostly because it was Russian and Russian pronunciation was completely lost on Rhian. Morgan seemed to be flirting with him—Nickolas, Nikolai, something like that—and Rhian suspected that this strange new behavior had something to do with their conversation earlier.

A large bang sounded throughout the entryway, and all the commotion was instantly quieted. Just outside the Great Oak Doors a bright light had appeared. A whooshing sound was followed but several small popping sounds and the Beauxbaton students arrived, all holding onto a large Portkey. The Portkey itself was a large golden statue shaped like an elegant castle. Surprisingly enough, all the students had a hold on it as they hovered above the ground before falling rather ungracefully onto the wet, muddy ground. For a moment there was a hush over the hall, no one dared make a noise. One by one, the Beauxbaton students picked themselves up and made a mad dash for Hogwarts Castle, trying to avoid a further soaking. Rhian felt bad for whoever had to clean the floors, because they were soon covered in mud and muddy water.

"I 'ave never felt so 'umiliated in all my life." A young Beauxbaton student cried. Her light silk robes were completely caked in mud.

"Do not worry, m'dear," the Head , a Hufflepuff, could be heard saying as she took the by her muddy hand. "One spell and you will be as good as new!"

Professor Fortesque rushed to greet Professor Rousseau, Headmaster of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, after which he turned to the growing crowd, pointed his wand to his throat ("Sonorus!") and called,

"All right, everyone into the Great Hall where we can properly welcome our guests!"

It took quite some time for all the students and teachers to get seated. Because there were so many guest, the visiting students were spread out, some sitting at every house table. There were quite a few Beauxbaton boys sitting with Rhian's normal group. She suspected that Sophia had had something to do with it, but she was too busy looking in the crowd of Beauxbaton students for any sign of her cousin.

"Jolie?" one of the Beauxbaton boys called. Rhian's heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Was it he? She looked up, fear visible in her eyes. Only she could be so unlucky.

"Jolie!" the young man called again, looking at her, his eyes warm with admiration. Several heads whipped in her direction, curious to see what the young man was on about.

"Jolie, I thought I'd never see you again!" he cried, standing up and moving to sit next to her. Taking her hand he kissed it and reached up a hand to caress her cheek.

"What are you doing?" Rhian cried, pulling away from him, obviously aggravated.

"Do not you remember Jolie?" the young man asked, looking hurt. "Remember all our times together in Paris?" The Ravenclaws gathered around were tense, waiting to see how things would play out. Was this Beauxbaton crazy? Did Rhian Lleynwell really know him? Enough for him to be kissing her? And did he have a brother? The tension was broke when Rhian glared in a very unlady-like fashion.

"Émile, we never knew each other like that," Rhian said, pushing her stool as far away from him as she possibly could, almost sitting on Denise Gordon in the process.

"But we danced in the moonlight," Émile said, scooting closer. ‥9 il midnight, by the river—and the little café, with the funny muggle in the hat. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember, Émile," Rhian said exasperatedly. "But you forgot the important details."

By now, their whole section of the table was watching. Thankfully, the crowd was still getting situated, so it was noisy enough not to attract too much attention.

"Such details as," Rhian continued, "We were dancing because it was my cousins wedding which she happened to have by the river, we danced until midnight because that's how long her reception lasted, and you and I happened to dance the last dance together. And we went to the café afterwards because your date happened to be my younger cousin and she invited me along."

"So many details," Émile sighed. "All I remember is you, Jolie."

"Can you please stop calling me that," Rhian whispered, completely embarrassed. "My name—"

"Yes, your beautiful name: Rhian Argoel Breanna Lleynwell. Your parents much have been artists to create such a beautiful name." Rhian looked at him with a confused, almost terrified expression.

"How in Merlin's name did you find out my name. Suzette only introduced me as her cousin Rhian."

"I have my ways," Émile said with a y grin. Rhian had had enough.

"Émile, I hardly know you, but what I do know of you, I am not very fond of. Please leave me alone." He seemed crushed. His gaze lowered and a frown found its way across his face. She almost felt bad, until—

"You will change your mind, Jolie," he smiled confidently. "I will become a champion and win you back from ooever it is that 'as took your 'art from me. I promise you, my Jolie." Rhian was saved from any further declaration Émile might make by Professor Fortesque's voice calling for attention.

"Welcome, welcome to our honored guest!" his call was followed by cheers and applause. "Welcome to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute, you are both most welcome! I know that you are all looking forward to placing your names into the Goblet of Fire, but before you do, a word of warning, if you will." As he spoke, Mr. Bernard, a kindly looking old man and the Keeper of the Keys, walked through the Great Oak Doors, levitating the giant goblet in front of him.

"To put your name into the Goblet is to sign a binding magical contract, in which there is no escape clause or loop holes," Professor Fortesque's deep voice rumbled through the hall. "So if you do not feel that you are ready for such a responsibility, please do not place your name into the Goblet. This Tournament, though glorified and praised, is not for the faint of heart. You are putting your life in extreme dangers, testing your physical and mental, as well as magical abilities."

As the Headmaster paused, many people could be heard sighing or letting out a long held breath. Rhian hadn't been looking forward to this part of the Tournament. With all the excitement of the visiting schools, she had actually been considering putting her name in the Goblet of Fire…but now, she was not so sure of herself. It was such a big responsibility, and the s were hardly ever picked anyway. Why bother?

"That said, from now until Halloween Day you are free to put your name into the Goblet of Fire!" Gesturing a hand toward the cup now standing by the professor's table, a bright orange flame exploded, rose up and then slowly died down, as did the applause as the food began to appear.

It was a genuine Hogwarts feast—the kind that could last several hours leaving everyone quite content and perhaps a little too tired to move for a while. Putting her fork down, Rhian yawned into her hand and stretched slightly. Jean Hethro and Denise Gordon had done Rhian a huge favour by distracting Émile during dinner. He had only spoken to Rhian a couple times, but was quickly cut off by Jean who asked him questions about Beauxbatons and France. Rhian made a mental note to thank them later.

"Rhian!" a voice to Rhian's left cried. Rhian looked to see her cousin Suzette rushing towards her. She grabbed onto Rhian in a fierce hug and was smiling so wide Rhian thought that perhaps her face might not be able to handle it.

"Rhian, mama said that first and foremost I must send my love," Suzette said, squeezing in next to Rhian at the Ravenclaw table.

"I am so excited for the Tournament," Suzette gushed in her beautiful French accent. Her English was as perfect as ever, her mother originally being from England, but Suzette had been born and raised in France and it did tend to show in her pronunciation of the words.

"As am I," Rhian smiled. "Are you going to put your name in the goblet?"

"Of course!" Suzette laughed. "This is my last chance. They will not 'ave a tournament next year, so I must try now." Suzette was a year younger than Rhian, though it had never seemed in to either or the s.

"Greetings, Suzie," Émile said when there was a pause in conversation. Suzette's head snapped in his direction and her eyes winded and then narrowed.

"Émile Fournier," she said, as she spit in his direction. Rhian started at the action, unsure of what she should do.

"Do not speak to him, Rhian," Suzette said, refusing to look at the young man who sat only a few seats from her. "'e is a cad and a liar. 'e said that 'e loved me and then broke my 'art as 'e tried to get to you."

"I know," Rhian spoke dryly, looking at Émile with distaste. "He seems completely obsessed with me or something. I assure you, the feeling is not at all close to mutual."

Suzette seemed relieved at this.

"I 'ate men," She sighed, leaning her head on Rhian's shoulder.

"Quite right too," Rhian sighed, looking towards the Hufflepuff table with a frown.