During one of the numerous soirees that occurred every summer, Fallon found out some astonishing news.
That day, a distant cousin, Philippe Callais, had come to call with his mother Iolanthe. Arrière-cousin Philippe was the grandson of Grand-mère Blanche's brother Maurice, two years older than her, a student going into his seventh and final year at Beauxbatons Academy. He had played with her time to time when she'd lived in France, so it was nice to see him again.
He'd taken a walk with her. Teased her a bit about her rusty French. Asked about her life at Hogwarts. Philippe had been very amused indeed when he'd heard of her antics with (against) Warrington.
"He must be a very brave and patient person," he'd remarked to her in French, earning him a light slap, "I look forward to meeting him in the fall."
Fallon blinked. Meeting Warrington in the fall? How? Warrington went to Hogwarts, and Philippe to Beauxbatons. Philippe saw her confused look, and gave her a confidential grin.
"We will be seeing you. Students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be coming to Hogwarts for a very special event."
Ask though she might, he refused to tell her more.
* * *
About a week after that, it was time to return to England, and prepare for school. That year's school supplies list had included dress robes, and Fallon was sure that, whatever reason they were on there, must have something to do with the visit that Philippe had mentioned.
Because she'd grown another several inches, now standing tall and graceful at five feet eight inches, she had arrived at Diagon Alley early that day, so that she could get fitted for dress robes.
She was certainly not the only one in the store doing so. When Fallon had walked in, Madame Malkin had given her a quick smile, and then turned back to where Ravyn De Borgia stood on a stool, her blossoming figure draped in yards of luxurious taffeta of a rich green shade. Madame Malkin waved her wand, and the flowing fabric molded itself into stylish dress robes, with a scalloped neckline that showed off the graceful lines of the girl's throat, and short butterfly sleeves.
Kate, too, had been fitted with dress robes. But where Ravyn's had been forest green, hers were a royal blue shade, with a voile overskirt and long voile sleeves woven with golden threads. Fallon complimented both her friends on their robes, and soon enough, it was her turn to be fitted.
Madame Malkin rifled through several bolts of fabric, muttering to herself, before she paused at a bolt of crimson silk. The witch's eyes had lit up, and soon, Fallon found herself wrapped in the opulent, blood-red material. Madame Malkin gave the robes a square collar, an empire waistline and no sleeves, trimming the robes with black piping and lace.
"There, dearie. You look a picture," Madame Malkin beamed, and Fallon stepped forward from the back to show her friends her robes.
At that moment, the door to the shop opened, and... was that Cassius Warrington? Since when did the GIT look... well, for lack of a better word... grown-up? Fallon blinked, not sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her, and then, he noticed her as well. For a few moments, he, too, looked confused, and then... yes, it was Warrington. He was giving her the 'Hello, twit' smirk.
Accordingly, she gave him the 'Right back at you, git' sneer. They stared at each other appraisingly for a few moments, and then he spoke, 'Well, you look different."
"Thank you for stating the obvious, Warrington, I'm wearing bloody dress robes," she retorted, raising an eyebrow.
"Bloody. How apt a description for them," he'd deadpanned, taking in the color. Fallon rolled her eyes, then turned to Kate and Ravyn, who gave her approving smiles. A moment later, she had stalked back to change into her normal robes.
Warrington blinked and stared at the spot where she'd just stood. Blimey... was... that... Fallon?! All right. So it had been a few months since he'd last seen her. But that was NO reason for her to become... well, ATTRACTIVE. She was supposed to be a skinny twit with a sharp tongue. Okay, so the sharp tongue was still there. But... what the HELL had happened to her during the summer to make her look like THAT?
There was a light giggle, and he saw Ravyn De Borgia and Kate Le Fay giving him knowing smiles. He gave the two girls half-hearted glares, and pulled himself up from the spot he'd been standing in, to look for a new winter cloak.
* * *
During the Starting Feast, Fallon found out what it was that going to happen that year. At long last, after many, many years of not holding it, there would be a Triwizard Tournament. There would be someone from Hogwarts competing, as well as from Beauxbatons Academy and Durmstrang Institute. Delegations of students from both schools would come at Halloween.
That year, there would be no Quidditch. Fallon noticed Warrington look somewhat disappointed at first, but then, after Dumbledore had announced that there would be an opportunity for any student 17 and above to try out, he'd regained his spirit. She'd rolled her eyes slightly, but... ah well, someone had to try out for Slytherin, and if Cassius Warrington was willing to stick his neck out for it, she'd certainly not stop him.
That year, there was once again a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This time, the gnarled, beaten face of the man at the High Table was familiar to some students. Former Auror Mad-Eye Moody. Some of the students in Fallon's house had family that had... run into trouble with him before. She noticed Draco Malfoy and his goons, as well as Tarquinus Nott, giving him very guarded looks. Snape, as well, was looking at Moody with a mix of dislike and fear.
Fallon knew of the man, but not like those others had. Sure, the Anderson clan was wealthy, influential and pure of blood. But none of them had ever grovelled to Lord Voldemort. And, well... Fallon didn't know about anyone else, but SHE would not grovel to the fellow. After all... for someone to be defeated by a baby, and a Gryffindor baby at that... what was the POINT in joining him, really? Let alone the fact that she was never one to 'grovel'.
It looked like this would be a very eventful year, she reflected.
She had no idea how unfortunately right she was.
* * *
End Chapter 8
* * *
More later! Merry Christmas, everyone!!
That day, a distant cousin, Philippe Callais, had come to call with his mother Iolanthe. Arrière-cousin Philippe was the grandson of Grand-mère Blanche's brother Maurice, two years older than her, a student going into his seventh and final year at Beauxbatons Academy. He had played with her time to time when she'd lived in France, so it was nice to see him again.
He'd taken a walk with her. Teased her a bit about her rusty French. Asked about her life at Hogwarts. Philippe had been very amused indeed when he'd heard of her antics with (against) Warrington.
"He must be a very brave and patient person," he'd remarked to her in French, earning him a light slap, "I look forward to meeting him in the fall."
Fallon blinked. Meeting Warrington in the fall? How? Warrington went to Hogwarts, and Philippe to Beauxbatons. Philippe saw her confused look, and gave her a confidential grin.
"We will be seeing you. Students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be coming to Hogwarts for a very special event."
Ask though she might, he refused to tell her more.
* * *
About a week after that, it was time to return to England, and prepare for school. That year's school supplies list had included dress robes, and Fallon was sure that, whatever reason they were on there, must have something to do with the visit that Philippe had mentioned.
Because she'd grown another several inches, now standing tall and graceful at five feet eight inches, she had arrived at Diagon Alley early that day, so that she could get fitted for dress robes.
She was certainly not the only one in the store doing so. When Fallon had walked in, Madame Malkin had given her a quick smile, and then turned back to where Ravyn De Borgia stood on a stool, her blossoming figure draped in yards of luxurious taffeta of a rich green shade. Madame Malkin waved her wand, and the flowing fabric molded itself into stylish dress robes, with a scalloped neckline that showed off the graceful lines of the girl's throat, and short butterfly sleeves.
Kate, too, had been fitted with dress robes. But where Ravyn's had been forest green, hers were a royal blue shade, with a voile overskirt and long voile sleeves woven with golden threads. Fallon complimented both her friends on their robes, and soon enough, it was her turn to be fitted.
Madame Malkin rifled through several bolts of fabric, muttering to herself, before she paused at a bolt of crimson silk. The witch's eyes had lit up, and soon, Fallon found herself wrapped in the opulent, blood-red material. Madame Malkin gave the robes a square collar, an empire waistline and no sleeves, trimming the robes with black piping and lace.
"There, dearie. You look a picture," Madame Malkin beamed, and Fallon stepped forward from the back to show her friends her robes.
At that moment, the door to the shop opened, and... was that Cassius Warrington? Since when did the GIT look... well, for lack of a better word... grown-up? Fallon blinked, not sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her, and then, he noticed her as well. For a few moments, he, too, looked confused, and then... yes, it was Warrington. He was giving her the 'Hello, twit' smirk.
Accordingly, she gave him the 'Right back at you, git' sneer. They stared at each other appraisingly for a few moments, and then he spoke, 'Well, you look different."
"Thank you for stating the obvious, Warrington, I'm wearing bloody dress robes," she retorted, raising an eyebrow.
"Bloody. How apt a description for them," he'd deadpanned, taking in the color. Fallon rolled her eyes, then turned to Kate and Ravyn, who gave her approving smiles. A moment later, she had stalked back to change into her normal robes.
Warrington blinked and stared at the spot where she'd just stood. Blimey... was... that... Fallon?! All right. So it had been a few months since he'd last seen her. But that was NO reason for her to become... well, ATTRACTIVE. She was supposed to be a skinny twit with a sharp tongue. Okay, so the sharp tongue was still there. But... what the HELL had happened to her during the summer to make her look like THAT?
There was a light giggle, and he saw Ravyn De Borgia and Kate Le Fay giving him knowing smiles. He gave the two girls half-hearted glares, and pulled himself up from the spot he'd been standing in, to look for a new winter cloak.
* * *
During the Starting Feast, Fallon found out what it was that going to happen that year. At long last, after many, many years of not holding it, there would be a Triwizard Tournament. There would be someone from Hogwarts competing, as well as from Beauxbatons Academy and Durmstrang Institute. Delegations of students from both schools would come at Halloween.
That year, there would be no Quidditch. Fallon noticed Warrington look somewhat disappointed at first, but then, after Dumbledore had announced that there would be an opportunity for any student 17 and above to try out, he'd regained his spirit. She'd rolled her eyes slightly, but... ah well, someone had to try out for Slytherin, and if Cassius Warrington was willing to stick his neck out for it, she'd certainly not stop him.
That year, there was once again a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This time, the gnarled, beaten face of the man at the High Table was familiar to some students. Former Auror Mad-Eye Moody. Some of the students in Fallon's house had family that had... run into trouble with him before. She noticed Draco Malfoy and his goons, as well as Tarquinus Nott, giving him very guarded looks. Snape, as well, was looking at Moody with a mix of dislike and fear.
Fallon knew of the man, but not like those others had. Sure, the Anderson clan was wealthy, influential and pure of blood. But none of them had ever grovelled to Lord Voldemort. And, well... Fallon didn't know about anyone else, but SHE would not grovel to the fellow. After all... for someone to be defeated by a baby, and a Gryffindor baby at that... what was the POINT in joining him, really? Let alone the fact that she was never one to 'grovel'.
It looked like this would be a very eventful year, she reflected.
She had no idea how unfortunately right she was.
* * *
End Chapter 8
* * *
More later! Merry Christmas, everyone!!