Fate's Curses and Gifts

Here is the start of my (second attempt) first fanfiction. If anyone read that one well I made a large mistake of not planning a basic plot and not having the patience to write descent length chapters. I have remedied these errors with a new story and new OC. The pairing including Fleur Delacour is because I feel J.K. Rowling didn't develop a character with a lot of potential and a more significant role. This is also all in first person and I have noted whose point of view (POV) it is in. Another note is that my updates will only occur once every week (at best) due to life and upcoming GCSE tests.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All of Harry Potter and related topics belong to J.K. Rowling

Chapter One - How People Judge

Matthew. G POV1

"The Hogwarts champion is...Matthew Glenn," spoke Albus Dumbledore. I glanced around in pleasant surprise. Of all people from Hogwarts I would never have believed the goblet of fire would choose me. Despite being 17, I had a distinct lack of magical knowledge compared to the average witch or wizard. It wasn't like I didn't try, but the events that transpired causing me to join at the beginning of fourth year. It was unheard of until then for a magical to only just discover their true self at such an age. The purebloods viewed me as mere dirt beneath their shoes, others observed me curiously while a few sought pity upon me. Solitude was a second nature to me so I took it in stride. Others opinions mattered little to me so I had distanced myself to quash any weakness before it could gain a foothold. However despite my intentions my oh so familiar solitude began to consume my thoughts. It would seep it's way into every minute of every day. Like a reporter it would harass and pester me. I needed someone to confide my troubles in. Not a teacher; the age gap would prevent a true understanding of the situation. Even with Dumbledore's wealth of knowledge and concept of the magical world, I would never feel open to him. I needed to prove myself to my own kin. Entering the tournament was a risky and foolish choice in hope of showing I am more than what people perceive me to be, but as my glance spread over the assembled schools I feared it may never come to pass.

At least a hundred judgemental, incriminating eyes glared as my body resolutely rose. The unbearable silence constantly tormenting my ears. I confidently strode towards the headmaster and received a thoughtful nod wishing me luck. Dumbledore had helped me through difficult times where many would have viewed me as a lost cause and I held great respect as a result. Though many wounds would never heal.

I held my gaze forward not revealing any emotions. Each excruciating step echoed throughout the hall only being accompanied by a quiet muttering. As I passed the staff table a wide variety of reactions were observed. Professor McGonagall watched on; pride clearly evident upon her face. But what really rocked my from the core was Severus' reaction. He inclined his head, but so I could infer a rare show of respect. Despite being a Gryffindor Snape never targeted me for his abuse and in return I have him no reason to. Whether it was my situation or merely my ability to knuckle down solely to achieve I'll never know.

With a slightly raised mood, I pushed the trophy room door ajar and entered the currently vacant space awaiting the other two champions...

Fleur. D POV1

My gaze turned towards the newly declared Hogwarts champion, though what I expected to see deceived me. I had expected a boy whose ego and arrogance would radiate off his very body. A chance to show himself as what he deemed worthy. Were the current mood different I may have outwardly chuckled at the thought. He was of above average height for his age, featuring brown and unruly hair. The hall's darkness concealed much of his face, but his brown eyes were somehow noticeable. A deadly silence blanketed itself upon the crowd muffling even the quietist of whispers. Many penetrating gazes were being directed towards the figure now standing beside the Gryffindor table, many of which were of disgust and to my further surprise, even hostile. Well aware of this he continued to remain expressionless as if concentrating intently on the short walk to the end of the hall.

What further peaked my curiosity was when he didn't give a backwards glance towards me while many of the guys kept stealing glances at me. Being a Veela was a gift and a curse together as one. Most of my female friends had abandoned me due to fear of losing their boyfriends to my allure and any boys would view me as a piece of meat or a possession. However this Matthew Glenn appeared undeterred. Frustrated at my lack of recognition I directed my allure at him, but to no avail. He continued up the central aisle in his same confident manner, but something about him felt so familiar. As I watched him disappear into the trophy room I mentally noted to ask some of the resident students about him. What I found was really occupying my thoughts was how his posture was so confident yet screamed solitude and loneliness. Three aspects of life that had been steadfast for many years due to being a Veela. There was one other aspect which really caught my attention; despite being expressionless his eyes appeared worn even old like he has lived and breathed a lifetime. It hurt me knowing that others have suffered similar to me.

What had he done to deserve this? What had he suffered? Who truly was Matthew Glenn?

"The Beaubatons champion is...Fleur Delacour," Dumbledore announced more joyously than my predecessor.

I was disgusted to see the majority of boys standing, clapping and wolf whistling, while many glares from the females became apparent. None could view my personality without the bloody avian side blinding them.

Similar like Matthew I elegantly walked - one foot in front of the other - towards the staff table. Most had curious expressions plastered on them while Durmstrang's headmaster now had developed an apparent loathing to my very existence; judging by the wide sneer he was currently sporting.

I returned a look of contempt, which only impossibly widened his sneer further. Within a few moments I had arrived at the sanctuary of the trophy room away from the pathetic crowd and had to face the anomaly of Matthew. Since when had I been so interested in a guy and I don't even know anything him.

Having fully entered the room I chanced a brief glance around and noticed a rigid form leaning against a window. His face now held a perceive expression. I didn't realise I was staring until his head rotated to face me.

"So you're my competition, Ms..." spoke Matthew.

"Delacour. Fleur Delacour," I replied.

Throwing me a questioning glance he said, "Delacour? As in Sebastian Delacour? The deputy minister of France?"

I simply nodded in reply, however before the greetings could continue, our attention was drawn to the approaching Durmstrang champion - Victor Krum.

Barely acknowledging our presence the world renowned seeker began to study an unremarkable trophy case. His surly expression giving no ground and so we stood in silence. I glanced back towards Matthew and found him again at the window deep in thought.

Just as I began tap my foot impatiently at the absence of any of the tournament organisers, the door opened once again. This time revealing a small boy; no older than 14.

"Harry is it?" Matthew asked, apparently recognising the boy in which Harry merely dumbly nodded as if in shock.

"Do they want us back in the hall?" he pursued, but this time a panicked look shot into view.

"Harry Potter!"

Matthew. G POV2

"Harry Potter!"

"Harry Potter!"

The staff and judges all at once hurriedly swarmed the trophy room, with Dumbledore at the lead. He roughly grabbed Harry who tumbled backwards into a trophy cabinet.

"Did you put your name in the goblet of fire?" am alarmed Dumbledore nearly shouted.

"No sir."

"Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?"

"No sir."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes sir."

"Well of course he is lying!" the Beauxbatons headmistress spoke.

"What! This little boy is going to compete!" Fleur next to me venomously spat. My all ready dwindling temper had began to reach dangerous levels.

"The brat just wanted more and more fame," another person contributed.

"For gods sake, just shut the fuck up! All of you!" I bellowed and was met by half a dozen shocked eyes.

"Does he honestly look like he wants to be here?" I asked, though left no room for a response.

"And by what I've heard he wants nothing to do with his fame and I quite frankly I don't blame him! Just give him a break."

The anger that had been seething from my very being, no longer showed as I finished my rant. With what energy I had left I stormed to the exit, but held back as I spoke in a freakishly calm manner directly to Ms. Delacour, "And for someone of your situation your arrogance outstands me."

She looked almost mortified that I was aware of her heritage, but it still shocked even myself how I had an unnatural resistance to her allure.

Slap!

I was snapped from my thoughts as she rained a blow over my left cheek and as I recovered myself I saw something that left me speechless. Upon her own left cheek was a bruise that was not there earlier and before I could come any further to my senses she slammed the door in her wake leaving a good many people utterly confused.

Author's Note: Please review as any advice and criticism will be taken into account.