The Story of Fleur Delacour - 8
"normal" - conversation in English
"italic" - conversation in French/Bulgarian
italic - thoughts
It was a bright morning. A rarity since how gloomy the daily weather of the British Isle can be.
The same couldn't be said about her mood though. Daphne's problem needed to be dealt with. Another headache was the last thing she needed that day. Seeing Roger Davies dampened her mood even further. She literally groaned when she saw him.
"Can we sit someplace else?" she asked.
Students trickled rather slowly into the Great Hall that morning. The Ravenclaw Table was largely vacant at that time. They could sit elsewhere in her opinion.
Her friends could see the problem. But Cassandra, always being the rational one of the group, argued, "We can but that means we're taking someone else spot at the table. That may not be a good thing to do. Even you don't like people taking up your favorite seat back at the dining hall at the campus."
Fleur couldn't argue with that. Back at the campus, she bristled every time she saw someone else taking up her favorite spot, be it at the dining hall or the library. Or even the garden by the lake where she would spent every afternoon with the girls.
"In that case, back me up. I'm not in the mood. I'll probably send him to the hospital wing in matchboxes before he finishes saying hi," said Fleur.
"Sure."
Roger Davies grinned widely when he saw the girls walking towards him. He stood up and gestured Fleur to sit right next to him. But just as the girls got nearer, Cammille suddenly cut in front of Fleur and proceeded to sit at the spot where Roger gestured Fleur to sit before.
"Zhank you, Monsieur Roger," she said.
Cammille's action took Roger by surprise.
"Urmm that's Fleur's seat," he said.
Cammille raised her eyebrows. "Really? I don't see 'er name? Do you see 'er name written anywhere 'ere?"
"No."
"Zhen it iz anyone's seat. Please sit down," said Cammille.
Except that Roger didn't. He just stood there, completely flummoxed by Cammille's unexpected move.
By this time, Fleur and the rest of her squad already taken up their seat. Fleur herself sat a bit further away. Cammille and Cassandra sat between her and Roger. She usually sat at the spot where Roger gestured her to sit. That was her spot. But unlike before, she gladded that someone else took it.
"Iz zhere a problem, Monsieur Roger?" asked Cammille who saw Roger didn't do as he was told.
"No," replied Roger. "But I would really like to sit beside her if you don't mind."
Cammille glanced at Fleur.
Fleur said nothing at that point. She didn't even looked back at Cammille. Instead, she solely concentrated on her breakfast. A plan suddenly hatched inside her head however.
Turning back to Roger, Cammille said, "She izn't zhat far away. You can still talk to 'er. Now sit."
"But you don't understand-"
"Understand what? Or do you rather 'ave us sitting at anozher table? Maybe zhat table?" she said pointing at Gryffindor Table. "So zhat you can 'ave a one on one with Fleur? We don't mind giving you zhat chance. But bear in mind, Fleur follows us wherever we go."
"No, not that. It's just-"
Cammille again raised her eyebrows. "Just what? You know in our custom, it iz very rude to ask a girl to move from 'er seat just because you want to flirt with zhe ozher girl. We French people don't like zhat."
Fleur and her friends smirked. They knew Cammille was simply playing with Roger.
Roger sighed. He knew that there was no getting around Cammille. But he needed to do what he had planned a few days ago. He wasn't going to back out this time. The Great Hall was still largely vacant. He needed to grab that chance.
He grabbed the bouquet of red roses he placed on the table. The Beauxbatons, both the girls and the boys, watched as he made his way towards Fleur.
Fleur sensed someone was standing behind her. She turned to look and saw it was Roger. She said nothing. She watched him knelt. She saw that he had a really hard time controlling himself. Her allure was attacking him. Not that she had any control over that.
"Good morning," said Roger.
Okay, that was a fail. And he only had that one job. The girls began to giggle. The boys smirked.
Roger somehow failed to realize that. Mustering whatever courage he got left, he continued, "I really like you. I hope we all can fall in love. I mean we both fall in love."
He then presented the flower he carried with him to Fleur. "Here's a bouquet of flowers. They're beautiful. Just like you. I hope you'll like it. Please take it."
But Fleur didn't take the flower offered to her. Something else caught her eyes instead.
Madame Maxime was heading towards them. And Roger hadn't realized it yet for he was too occupied with Fleur.
Madame Maxime cleared her throat loudly. It woke Roger from his reverie. He looked up and saw Madame Maxime, now towering over him, smiling.
"Zhe flowers, are zhey for me?" she boomed.
"I-"
Before Roger could finish responding, Madame Maxime flicked her wrist and the flower bouquet shot out of Roger's grasp. It then floated within a feet from Madame Maxime. The Beauxbatons Headmistress studied it momentarily before she turned back to Roger, "Zhe flowers are beautiful. 'Ow do you know I like red roses? Monsieur-?"
By this time, the girls of Beauxbaton were giggling hard. Even Fleur herself smiled and shook her head.
"Roger. His name is Roger Davies," said Cammille as she continued to giggle.
"Monsieur Roger, I see. You're a 'andsome boy. We should go out on a date sometimes. I'll see if I 'ave free time zhis weekend. Oh by zhe way, I 'ave instructed my students not to accept anyzhing from ozher schools. Everyzhing 'as to go through me. Of course zhere will be exceptions," she said, glancing and winked at Fleur.
Fleur smiled back. She knew what her headmistress meant.
"I shall go back to my table. Zhank you for zhe flowers, Monsieur Roger," finished Madame Maxime. She bent and kissed Roger on his cheek. She then took leave, Roger's flower floated behind her as it followed her in her wake.
Roger remained frozen to his spot.
By this time, the majority of the Ravenclaws had already arrived. They saw and heard everything.
"Mate!" exclaimed Grant Page who was watching the event unfold with his mouth opened. "I know you said you're going big. I didn't know it would be this big."
Roger suffered ridicules from his friends for the rest of the breakfast period. Everyone was talking about his misfire earlier.
"Going straight for the headmistress, eh? That's a bold move, mate," said Duncan Inglebee. "On the plus side for us, we got a chance with the Beauxbaton's champion. We thank you for that."
Roger could only glare at the Ravenclaw Beater.
Fleur rolled her eyes when she heard what Duncan said. From the conversation she heard between Roger's friends, she got to know that Roger was completely obsessed with her, to the point that he won't shut up about her 24-7. She also got to know that Roger had been planning his latest move a few days ago.
Things didn't go as plan. He 'got' Madame Maxime instead. And Fleur was very thankful for that. She got Roger off her back for the time being. Then again, perhaps it was her fault. She entertained Roger every time the boy struck up a conversation with her. He probably misinterpreted her intention. He must have thought that she was opening up to him. She actually was merely being polite.
The boy would try again, she had no doubt about that. Perhaps she should be less polite to him the very next time.
Harry and his friends arrived at the Great Hall just as she and her friends was about to leave. As always, they exchanged meaningful look and that somehow managed to brighten her mood a little bit.
On their way down to the carriage, Madame Maxime slapped them with an announcement. She was planning an arrangement with Professor Dumbledore to have Hogwarts kitchen send the meals directly to the carriage which would mean that they no longer have to brave the weather for their meal. When asked why she didn't just asked the campus cafeteria to do just that, she replied that it was the Hogwarts Headmaster himself who insisted the arrangement be made and it would begin once he and Madame Maxime ironed out the proper security procedure and such.
They were elated of course. Fleur herself was surprised by this. This was exactly what she thought to ask her headmistress during the breakfast before. Of course this would mean that she would be seeing less and less Harry, but at the very least it would give her a little bit peace of mind from the rest of Hogwarts male population. They were less upfront than the Beauxbaton males which was commendable however.
As for Harry, she would deal with him later. They were inviting him to the carriage after all.
That reminded her of something else however. She had yet asked Madame Maxime for permission.
And speaking of Harry...
She had yet told the girls about her conversation with Daphne. She silently wondered if she should.
And speaking of Daphne...
She hadn't seeing the younger veela during breakfast. She saw Astoria though who never failed to wave at her every time they saw each other at the Great Hall.
She became slightly worried for Daphne and hoped that the Greengrass heiress will be alright.
Something else caught her attention just as they arrived at the carriage. She saw Professor Moody coming out of the Dark Forest a little bit further away from Hagrid's hut. He was carrying a large brown sack over his shoulder. And he was walking quickly towards the castle.
All of a sudden Professor Moody stopped on his track. He swiveled around and saw the Beauxbaton's delegates. He was surprised to see them apparently.
Fleur quickly looked away and pretended not to notice him. But from the corner of her eyes, she could see what Moody was doing.
Moody immediately hid the sack behind his back. He kept on staring at them. It went on until she entered the carriage.
Fleur of course knew the story. Of how an impostor, posing as Alastor Moody, orchestrated everything from Harry unwittingly becoming the fourth champion to Voldemort's resurrection. The impostor also became responsible for Cedric Diggory's death. And the Moody that was now standing at the edge of the Dark Forest looking at them was the impostor. And to think that this impostor had access to Harry made her uncomfortable.
But then again, maybe there was no impostor this time. Harry didn't become the fourth champion, did he?
Everything had become so confusing.
She entered her room and immediately went to look out the window. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had gone.
Maybe this time there was no impostor. But that brown sack he was trying to hide from them. And that look of surprise on his face.
Fleur knew that she had to make sure.
The lessons that morning went without a hitch. Due to unforeseen circumstances ie. the teacher wasn't feeling well, there was no class after lunch so Fleur spent the whole afternoon training for the tournament. Her friends questioned her decision though given that she entered the tournament in her past life and knew what to expect. She reasoned that it would be prudent for her not to be complacent and it had been a while since the last time she raised her wand in order to defend herself. She purposely left out the fact that she didn't do very well in her last outing as the Triwizard champion though.
"Didn't I tell you girls what to expect in this tournament?" she asked as she wiped the sweat of her face with a small towel. She was training within a room set up dedicatedly for her. The room or chamber if you rather called it that, was magically fortified so that Fleur won't accidentally destroy the carriage whenever she trained.
"Well yes," said Marianne. "You said there's going to be dragons, the lake where you have to rescue someone and the maze."
"And those aren't scary enough for you?"
"A little bit?"
Fleur just shook her head.
The truth was even she wasn't sure if the challenges remained the same as before. For all she know this time it could be different. Then again, it pays to be prepared no matter what she was going to face. She could only hope she didn't lose her nerves. It happened before. Despite her lifelong experience, there was never any guarantee that it won't happen again.
The Beauxbaton students were having their meal at the carriage that night. The twelve course dinner was catered directly from a famous restaurant in Paris, courtesy of the Delacour family. It was indeed a pleasant surprise for the students. Madame Maxime only announced it late in the evening, much to the delight of her students. Even Fleur had no idea her family would plan that sort of thing.
They retired early that night. But before the girls said goodbye for the night, as always they would gather inside Fleur's quarters. Jars containing various cakes and cookies lined up on top of the window side table, again courtesy of her family. Her friends loved them. Fleur on the other hand wondered loudly if her parents wanted to fatten her up.
"Don't be ridiculous," said Cammille as she dug into a jar containing blueberry butter cakes. "You can't get fat. Veelas don't get fat. I don't get fat. Actually I wish I don't get fat."
Astoria came to her mid breakfast the very next day.
"Have you seen my sister?" asked the younger Greengrass.
"No, I haven't," replied Fleur. "I was wondering the same thing. Haven't you in any contact with your sister?"
Astoria shook her head. "No. I haven't seen her during breakfast, lunch and dinner since a few days ago. I'm afraid to ask though," she said, glancing at the Slytherin Table. "I want to ask Tracy but I haven't seen her as well. I sent owls but Daphne never respond. Things aren't going so well with her, or so I heard. But the fourth years told me she's present in all of her classes so at least I know she's not in any immediate danger."
Owls. Maybe she should try sending Daphne one, thought Fleur.
"Danger?" said Cassandra who had been giving rapt attention to the conversation between Fleur and Astoria. "What happened? What's going on? Astoria? Fleur?"
Ignoring Cassandra, Fleur continued to ask, "Do you have any idea how your sister have her meal? She can't go hungry for these past few days, can she?"
"Well she told me about how her seniors, the older boys actually, would sneak into Hogwarts kitchen for snacks. I don't see her doing the same thing though," said Astoria.
Fleur thought the same as well. Daphne can be brash sometimes but she didn't think the younger veela would do something undignified like sneaking into the kitchen when she knew it was against the rule. Daphne was hardly a rule breaker as far as she could tell.
"Well, all the same. Keep sending owls to her, Astoria. Tell her that we're all worried," said Fleur.
Astoria nodded. "Will do." She then went on to rejoin her friends.
"Care to tell us what's going on, Fleur?" asked Cassandra.
By this time, Fleur noticed all of her friends were staring at her.
"Something happened a few days ago," she began. "I'm not sure if that have anything to do with Daphne's current situation. I hope not. But still, the only way of knowing is to ask her directly. As you can see, I can't."
"Sounds serious," said Marianne, her eyebrows creased. "Come on, tell us!"
"Later. I promised," said Fleur.
Something else occupied her mind later on. Just as she and her friends headed out of the Great Hall, she heard a conversation between several Hufflepuffs boys.
"The Unforgiveable Curses?! Are you serious?!" said one of the boys.
"That's what the sixth year told us," replied the other. "The bloke told us Moody just blew everyone's mind away when he demoed the curses."
One of them immediately took out his timetable. "We're having Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon! Wicked!" he exclaimed.
All of a sudden, Fleur veered off course and walked straight towards the boys.
"Fleur! Where are you going?!" said Cassandra who was taken by surprise by Fleur's unexpected move.
But the veela ignored her.
The boys and the several others froze when they saw who was coming towards them.
She smiled at them the moment she reached them.
"Good morning," she greeted them.
There was no response.
"I apologize but I can't 'elp but 'ear what you just said. Iz it true Professor Moody demonstrated zhe Unforgiveable Curse wizhin 'is classes?" she asked.
Still no response.
"Can you tell me anyzhing? Do you 'ave Professor Moody's class togezher with zhe Gryffindor zhis afternoon?" she asked again.
By this time, she noticed the boys' eyes became glassy. A few of them began to drool as they continued to stare at her.
Fleur just rolled her eyes and shook her head. She hated being a veela sometimes.
She looked over towards the Gryffindor Table. Harry was busy discussing something with the other two boys whom she recognized as his dorm mate. He didn't notice that she was standing at the Hufflepuff Table, looking at him.
There was no sign of Ronald Weasley. Hermione on the other hand was staring curiously at her.
She now knew what to do.
Fleur gave a subtle nod at Hermione. She then turned around, leaving the boys who were now drooling like there's no tomorrow, and walked back towards her friends who was waiting for her.
"What was that all about?" asked Cassandra as they continued their journey back to their carriage.
"Do you know that the male salivary gland can produce so much saliva that they're able to fill Lac du Bourget ten times over?" said Fleur.
"How is that relevant to what I asked?"
"I was asking the boys some questions."
"And?"
"And all I got is saliva."
"Fleur, really what's going on?"
Fleur suddenly stopped on her tracks. Her friends followed suit. Turning to them, she asked, "How do you feel about joining the Hogwarts students in one of their classes?"
"WHATT?!"
Harry told her once about Moody demonstrating the Unforgiveable Curse in front of the students. She was of course shocked to hear that.
They were sitting at the balcony on one nice Sunday afternoon, watching young Victoire playing with the dog Harry just got her in the garden.
"But that is forbidden! How can he show them to the students?!" exclaimed Fleur.
"I know, right?" replied Harry. "But there you go. You know Dumbledore. You can bring three dragons to Hogwarts and tell him you want to train the students on how to defeat a dragon and he'll be like 'yeah okay'. I should have seen it coming. But then how would I know the man in front of me was actually an impostor? "
"You don't," said Fleur. "But still, Professor Dumbledore really shouldn't allow him to do that."
"True. But the truth is, I'm glad he showed it to us," said Harry, much to Fleur's surprise. "It help me a lot back then. I never understand why Barty Jr. did that though. Even until now."
"You're suspecting he had some sort of ulterior motive," stated Fleur.
Harry shook his head. "Not really. But now that you mention it, I do begin to think maybe he had some sort of plans. He placed the Imperious Curse on each of us on the pretext that he wanted to train us on how to throw the curse off completely."
"And?"
"And train us he did," said Harry. "Well not all of us. Just me. I'm the only one who was not completely affected by the spell. He placed the curse again and again until I was able to force it out completely. Just imagine, what if I was just like everybody else? What if the Imperious Curse took me over completely? What will happened to me then?"
Fleur dashed into her room once they got back to the carriage. She took out a piece of blank parchment and a quill and hastily wrote a note. Once done, she immediately dashed to the carriage's owlery.
"Make sure that she replies to this note at once," she said as tied the note to one of the owls' leg. "And don't come back without a reply."
The black owl hooted importantly. It then stretched its wing and took off.
Fleur stood there watching the owl became smaller and smaller. All she could do now is pray that her plan works.
To be continued...
