Sage: Greetings and Salutations peoples of the internet and welcome back to the Death Toll miniseries.

Jade: DRAGONS!

Sage: Ehem, yes, what she said. This week we pit the lovely, charming, and very angry Veela champion against her dragon.

Jade: Bitch is gonna get it!

Sage: Really now Jade that was uncalled for.

Jade: (Obstinate silence)

Sage: (Shakes head) anyway, it comes as little surprise that a girl with Fleur Delacour's unique heritage would have some issues. Today we are going to explore those issues and how they affected her choice to participate in our little death game.

Jade: Then we're going to kill her!

Sage: (sigh) yes Jade, then we're going to kill her.

Jade: Good.

Sage: (Shakes head again) This is Sage the Dark

Jade: and Jade of the Fae

Sage: Saying please enjoy First task Travesties, comments always welcome, flames as well

Jade: BURN BABY BURN!

…And Now Our Feature Presentation…
*This fic brought to you by Madam Mantulas silk boutique*
Official sponsors of the Triwizard tournament

Death Toll
First task Travesties
"Fleur"

She was a beautiful creature, one of nature's great masterpieces. She moved with a fluidity and grace one could not help but watch in awe and wonder. Then she opened her mouth, showing off all those big flesh ripping teeth. Fear and terror replaced awe and wonder with frightening speed.

Fleur Delacour gulped, a very unladylike thing to do but she felt she had the right to it, after all, how many 'ladies' had ever even contemplated what she was about to do? It was in that moment she could not help but wonder 'why did I want to do this again?'

… So sexy, it hurts …

All her life Fleur Delacour had been told how pretty she was. She had been an adorable tyke, the cutest little girl, and a lovely young lady. It was however sometime around the beginning of puberty, when the hormones really kicked in, that praise of her loveliness took on a decidedly less wholesome tone.

She knew what a Veela was of course, her grandmother had done her best to educate little Fleur on the trials her heritage would bring but there was really nothing anyone could have said or done to prepare her for what happened. Practically overnight, she went from the sweet and adorable apple of her father's eye to the slim willowy goddess with supple tantalizing curves and an aura that drove weaker men to drooling at the mere sight of her.

She had only been thirteen at the time and been forced to miss several months of school just so she could learn to get her new allure under some semblance of control. Her papa, bless him, was fortunately immune and was her strong place in those trying times. The Veela was something she inherited from him and it was obvious he felt largely responsible for her hardship.

When at last she was deemed fit to return to school she was confident things would be as she had left them and she would shortly get her life back in order. It almost shattered her fleeting control when she found out this was not to be the case. Even with her allure tamped down men she had known for years stared at her whenever she entered a room, their eyes filled with a lust that sent shivers down her spine and made sure she never went anywhere without her wand.

The females too were changed, their eyes had become cold but their words were colder still. They shunned her, called her horrible things, "attention whore" being one of the more mild. She tried to explain it wasn't her fault, she'd never asked for it, she'd give it up if she could, but they didn't listen, didn't want to listen. Things became very different for her that year and it set a tone for those that were to follow.

… How do you measure a year in life …

As the years went by a powerful resentment grew within the young Veela. Why had this happened to her? What had she ever done to deserve it? These questions plagued her with every lustful stare and icy glare. While her control had improved as she had grown it was too little too late. She had seen the true face of the world and it was an ugly hateful thing.

Still…

In some secret place she never allowed the world to see, that sweet loving little girl she once had been sat, untouched by her resentment, frightened and lonely and yearning desperately for a friend, for even one person to see her for who she truly was and not what her heritage had made her.

She saw that little girl every day in the face of her beloved sister and it was all she could do to keep from weeping. She of all people knew the inevitable fate of that darling child and it tore at her tender heart to know that there was nothing she could do to spare her beloved sister the same fate she had suffered. Her helplessness made her angry and bitter which only added to her ever growing resentment.

When the tournament had been announced by Madam Maxine, Fleur had been strangely optimistic. She had never traveled much and certainly never without her parents. The tournament would provide an opportunity to expand her horizons at last, meet new people who didn't have some preconceived notion of what she should be and maybe, just maybe, allow her to make a friend.

This hope died the second she stepped off the carriage and she saw all those weak-willed hormonal males staring at her like a piece of meat. She could already see the female students growing angry at her mere presence and it took all her years of experience to flawlessly hide her dismay behind a mask of casual disdain.

That then just left the tournament.

She had considered the possible prestige that would come with winning but had been uninterested at the time, being more concerned with personal interests. Now it was the only reason she had left to put up with these stinking foreigners and their ugly freezing castle. Maybe if she beat out the competition it would show all those fools that Fleur Delacour was not just some pretty face, and assorted other parts, for them to stare at.

She had felt mildly happy when her name came out of the Goblet of Fire, but that feeling was smothered under a blanket of fury as soon as she understood why that scrawny boy with the messy hair had joined the champions.

Cedric Diggory she had never heard of but Victor Krum was quite famous and defeating him in the tournament would have been quite the coup. At least until Harry Potter was involved, then the whole thing looked like nothing more than a publicity stunt for Hogwarts and the boy-who-lived regardless of who was ultimately victorious.

While on the outside her comments had been mild and her demeanor annoyed, on the inside she was seething. How dare this little boy, this useless child celebrity, how dare he cheapen this competition by cheating his way in. There was really no doubt in her mind that the boy had cheated to enter. She had seen 'his' type before and given what everyone was saying about him what other conclusion could be drawn.

It never occurred to her that Harry Potter was, much like her, not so much a person to the public as an object to be taken out and stared at. Instead she listened as the mindless hate reinforced her own preconceived notions and never once questioned why someone as famous as Harry Potter would want to ruin his reputation by obviously cheating his way into the tournament.

Then she had learned of the dragons and all else became meaningless. Sure they weren't being asked to slay them per say, though that might have been easier. It wasn't till she was face to face with the beast however that the weight of what she was being told to do really sank in.

'By the stars, why did I think this was a good idea?'

… Feeling hot hot hot …

Utilizing the same mental exercises she had learned to reel in her allure she focused her mind and calmed her erratically thumping heart. If her plan worked the dragon would be absolutely no danger by the time she approached her prize. If not, she would accept the failure and be thankful to have survived.

Her wand moved like an orchestral conductor, weaving the powerful sleeping spell over the dragon which paced anxiously. It became evident that the spell was taking hold when the pacing slowed. The dragons' movements became sluggish, its head dipped as it fought a losing battle to stay awake. At last, unable to win the dragon lay down protectively around its eggs and surrendered to Morpheus.

Fleur watched the dragon for several minutes before lowering her wand and approaching. The dragon's heavy breath was slow, even, and hot. The young Veela tread cautiously, her eyes barely leaving the dragon, coming to a stop just short of the nest which was also bare inches from the beasts head.

Fighting to keep from hyperventilating, she inched forward stopping just within reach of her shining golden prize. Her hands shook as she reached down, grasped the egg, and lifted it from the clutch. Egg in possession, she froze, waiting for any sign from the dragon that her spell had failed. Nothing happened. The dragon gave a mighty sigh then continued its deep restful breathing.

Turning her back on the dragon she took only a single step when it happened. The dragon took a deep breath, its mouth opening, and the extra fuel was sufficient to achieve combustion. It wasn't a large or even highly focused bit of flame but it was enough to light the Veela champion on fire.

Her response to her predicament was less than dignified as she stumbled around trying to both hold the egg and put out her burning cloths. The rock that seemed to appear out of nowhere caught her heel and stole what was left of her dignity as well as her balance. The egg went flying into the air as she tried and failed to catch herself before toppling to the ground.

The craggy uneven earth rose up swiftly to meet her and despite being a featherweight she struck with considerable force. Her head especially took quite the blow, landing on a sharp bit of stone and painfully cracking the back of her skull.

This alone would have been sufficient insult but gravity was not yet done with the unfortunate young woman as her egg, its upward momentum spent, came crashing back down right on top of her beautiful cranium as she tried to rise, slamming mercilessly into her skull with enough force to pop the seal.

The magnificent wail that emanated from the golden artifact proved a crude but effective dragon alarm clock and the audience watched the chaos as the dragon handlers rushed to subdue the panicked beast while keeping it away from the unmoving Beauxbatons champion. In the time it took them to accomplish this task and finally check on the listless damsel however, it was too late. As the pool of blood beneath her head would attest, Fleur Delacour was dead.

…

Death toll:

1 angry teenaged Veela

Final count: 1

Authors note: This one took the most edits to get right, by far. Still, I am content with how it turned out so I can't complain too much.

Hope everyone's enjoying this little miniseries so far, next week is that handsome Hufflepuff who would later become an evil gay vampire, Cedric. I consider this one more of mercy killing than anything else.

Thanks for reading and see you next time.