"And who's that one?"
"Oh, that's Marcelle Alix-"
"Pronounced Alis, thank you very much, Gislelle," Aurelie interrupted. The girls giggled.
"Yes, Marcelle Alix. She's very, very poor. Her parents slaved to earn enough money to send her to Beuxbatons. Or that's what they say, anyway." Giselle continued.
Marcelle was sitting in the window, staring out over the valley. Stupid girls, she thought. They don't know what it's like. Marcelle knew people whispered about her in the hallways, she knew what they all said.
"Any day now she'll drop out, you watch," Aurelie said again. "She can barely afford new books each year."
Why does everyone get to the new girls before she did? They manage to convince them all to stay away from her within an hour of their arrival. If she could talk to them first, for once, she might actually have a friend.
Marcelle hated it. Being poor. She always stayed at school over the holidays, not because she wanted to, but because she knew her parents couldn't afford to feed her if she showed up on their doorstep for Christmas. She never got presents like the other girls did, she never had the latest hair accessory or shoe style. Her books were all second-hand, and her robes were so old and small that they were practically rags.
She had visited her family once over Easter, and it was terrible. Her mother was so sick she could barely move, but she still got up to work every day. Her father was so tired all the time that he was practically asleep on his feet. They had starved for a week after she'd left, Marcelle knew, to make up for what they'd spent feeding an extra person.
But that's why you must enter, Marcelle told herself. She got down from the beautifully carved windowsill and made her way to the crystal stairway. The staircase curled up the wall of the tower, finally leading her to the fourth-years' dormitory, a beautiful powder-blue room with six four-poster double beds against the walls. Marcelle changed, ignoring the girls that shared her room, and pushed the sparkling, translucent curtain out of the way to get in to bed. If you win you won't have to worry about any of this anymore. Life will be heaven.
If she had that thousand galleons she'd have friends, a real house, new robes whenever she wanted, her mother wouldn't be sick anymore and her life would be rich. With these comforting thoughts circling her head, Marcelle closed her sharp, dark blue eyes and drifted off to sleep with a final thought. And I'll do anything to win.