The Choices
Wonderful it was to be gifted with several craved attributes- beauty, kindness, forgiveness, elegance and intellect- but patience could never creep its way onto such a list of gifts bestowed upon Victoire. Classes were disturbed by her hunger for one specific day, there wasn't a conversation that didn't have that day mentioned and the ticks and tocks of the clock were no longer seconds, but a reminder that she still had to wait. When she was a child, she would become so impatient during December that she had to be allowed to open three presents before Christmas day to get the constant whining to cease. She could barely wait for water to boil. So, when the heavily awaited day came, it was as if the weight of the universe had been lifted off of her chest and she could finally breathe properly. Today was the day that everyone found out who the Triwizard tournament champions would be.
The day didn't seem very special. Defence against the dark arts was boring enough for Victoire to count how many creases there were on her knuckles, runes was everything she already knew, and she couldn't tell you exactly what happened in charms, simply because her teacher majored in waffling. Sure, spending time with her friends and some of the ghosts was a highlight that she looked forward to everyday, but her heart did a gymnastics routine in anticipation for that evening.
There had to be the grandest of feasts for such an occasion, with the endless bowls and plates being now and again filled with an unknown dish from one of the guest schools to stretch their palettes. All the different hot smells mixed together to become a whirlpool of a mouth-watering fumes that even had some of the ghosts innocently reaching for food and then fleeing to stop the tempting torture. However, excitement and nerves formed a toxin that prevented Victoire from enjoying a meal she was sure on a regular day, she'd devour with not a crumb left behind. Her stomach begged her to eat something, be it a piece of bread or some beef and though she complied a couple of times, she could no longer force down food she feared would happily come back up. A cycle of thoughts occurred in her head- she needed to eat, but the anxiety was too much, but if she wasn't chosen, it would all be for nothing. For weeks, she was yearning for this evening to arrive; now she was craving for it to end.
"You're seriously not going to eat anything?" Brea sounded concerned,
Lying seemed the appropriate course of action, "Well, I ate a lot of snacks before dinner; I don't think my poor belly could take anymore."
Brea shrugged and went back to mopping her plate clean with a piece of bread. Either Victoire was a very convincing liar or Brea knew that she was lying and there was nothing she could do about it. Nerves may have been getting in the way of Victoire's appetite, but it was not obstructing her love of chatting to everyone she possibly could. Some of the new prefects asked her for advice that she was more than willing to give while the plates were being cleared and the ghost of Colin Creevey gave his dramatic interpretation of his year of the Triwizard tournament.
"Just don't take pictures of the Durmstrangs without their permission, they're real funny about it, like the way they look at you, it's like they're a basilisk or something," Colin made his last joke before it was time for everyone to leave the hall.
There was a brief gap for the students to freshen up and prepare for the most important part of the night, giving Victoire time to calm herself down. She roamed the halls by herself, biting her nails and twisting her hair around her fingers, hoping her heart would quit the race it had put itself in. Why did this mean so much to her? Not being part of the competition wouldn't affect her dream of being a world-class businesswoman, it wouldn't stop the world from spinning, and it wouldn't make her grades plummet. Usually she was so sure of herself, confident and unphased even by exams, but this felt heavier. Repeatedly telling herself to calm down, to stop overthinking and to get a grip went from being internal to external, but not in her voice. She slowly turned around to see a familiar face hovering behind her, resting against the wall with a cheeky grin.
The ghost looked her up and down, "The French in you still can't kick out the Weasley genes can it?"
"Uncle Fred, I am very stressed at the moment," she sighed as she sat with her back against the wall next to him,
"I could tell. Hence why I'm here," Fred's ghost sat next to her, "I am going to attempt to speak one of your languages," he cleared his throat, "girl, stress is not a good look on you, you need to cool down like beans, take a chill pill, get them hormone-zies in order and breathe."
Laughing was a constant reoccurrence when Victoire was with her Uncle Fred. Though his sassy voice made his words sound ridiculous, they carried more of a punch than she thought they would. What she had needed this whole time was someone her age- well who looked her age- and was family to support her thoughts of wanting to just relax.
"This year is going to be a mess isn't it?" she finally was able to talk,
"Nopes, it will be a breeze. You will feel like you're having constant massages, your top grades will be secure, and you'll even have time to take a month-long trip to the tropical islands," Fred's words reeked of sarcasm.
Five minutes later and Victoire's cheek were in agony from howling at Fred's jokes and yet another embarrassing story about her father when he was growing up. His goal was obviously to ease her mind and get her to actually laugh in a time where her body wanted to shake with anxiousness, but when the clock struck 20:30, nothing could prevent the nerves from creeping in. She turned in the direction of the great hall and let out a heavy sigh.
"Why do you care so much?" Fred asked her softly,
"I just…I just want to be more than I am now. I am stick of just being the pretty blonde girl in fancy clothing. I need to be more," she replied,
"I spent my last moments fighting evil, and I can tell you now, one of the greatest evils can be the lack of faith in ourselves," he let his jacket surround her as his arms made the position of a loose hug, "you are nervous because you're scared you can't do this, but all jokes aside, if you are chosen, I don't think there will be anyone more deserving."
Victoire wished she could feel the warmth of Fred's hug, but could only imagine that his hugs were identical to Uncle George's as she absorbed his words. There was no specific reason why his words impacted her more than if her best friends had said it, yet she slowly but surely began to reassure herself that things would go how they were meant to, and if that meant not being a Triwizard champion, then so be it. She blew her legendary Uncle Fred a kiss, before turning away and with an air of confidence, she walked into the great hall and gently smiled as she walked past her fellow students to her seat in between her best friends. Darkness almost suffocated the hall, with the goblet of fire being the menacing light that came at a price as the crackling of its flame spread across the room. There were no words as Professor McGonagall slowly advanced towards the goblet, students barely looked at each other and they all sat up as McGonagall reached up to the flame as it changed colour. With sudden energy, the flame seemed to erupt, spitting out a neatly folded piece of parchment. Though it had already reached its peak, the silence somehow increased. Legs trembled, hands uncontrollably fiddled, hearts pounded like drums and fingers began to cross as students closed their eyes and begged for their names to be chosen. Whose name would be first?
"The Triwizard tournament champion for Beauxbatons is…" McGonagall carefully unfolded the hot parchment, "Miss Alodie Mauve!"
Claps, cheers, whistles, screams and howls exploded from the crowd as the chosen Beauxbatons student strode up to collect her name with pride.
"That's the snobby girl we saw before," Brea said in Victoire's ear.
Victoire stretched her neck to see the same regal looking girl that glared at her with distain and the speed of her claps decreased rapidly. Something about the aura of Alodie made the regular sweet expression on Victoire's face turn sour, as she watched her blow false kisses to all the congratulating students, shake hands with Professor McGonagall and then disappear to an unknown room. As the noise declined, McGonagall looked back up at the fire, waiting for it to make its next choice.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Aaron whispered, "there have been bets on who will be chosen; most of them are on Lucas."
The compulsion to laugh and gasp was hard to fight, but as the silence settled down, she was able to keep it in and scan the room for Lucas. He was sitting opposite them but slightly to the left, his arm around another Slytherin girl who he obviously had no interest in whatsoever and his fingers crossed. It was common knowledge that he would be the favourite; he was strong, loved by everybody, even his enemies would admit to liking him, and he could've easily been the poster boy for the Triwizard Tournament. As Victoire and Lucas waved at each other, the flame changed colour again, roaring for attention as it spat out another piece of burning parchment.
"The Triwizard Tournament champion for Durmstrang is…" McGonagall was clearly loving the suspense and let the pause continue for a bit too long, "Mister Leon Borislaw!"
Deeper and wilder were the cheers this time and when Leon strode past the girls, squeals joined the commotion as his name was heavily chanted and Victoire weakly clapped. She wasn't going to enthusiastically clap for a boy who treated her like trash for no reason other than her gender, and even her friends around her who recalled their meeting demonstrated false happiness. Watching him go to the private unknown room at the back, let the butterflies flutter into her stomach, while a lump grew in her throat and she began to tap her fingers against her arm.
It was time.
Almost every Hogwarts student had their fingers crossed and it wouldn't have been a surprise if they had their toes crossed too, as the goblet of fire made its presence known for the final time- it's orange and red energetically dancing flame rising with a roar as it let its final choice float into the air. From her seat, Victoire could guess that the piece of parchment was quite small, most likely suggesting the name on the paper was a short one, which meant it wouldn't be Victoire who was chosen. She hoped that if it wasn't her to be chosen, it was to be Lucas or another worthy Ravenclaw who would make their house proud.
"The Triwizard Tournament champion from Hogwarts is…" McGonagall had excitement covering her face as she saw the name the fire had given her.
Professor Longbottom looked over her shoulder from a distance but seemed to still be able to read the name, punching the air and nodding with approval as he prepared himself to clap and cheer. It had to be someone strong and bold, someone everyone knew would win the tournament hands down and who was physically the only competitor for the job.
"…Miss Victoire Weasley!"