Disclaimer: I don't own any of the schools, or the magical world. I do
own the characters, though, so please don't take them away! Please!
Author's Note: This story takes place some where between 1800 and 1900. It's my first try at chapters, so please don't hate me if they're not that good! It' from all three character's views.
Tournament Chapter one: Journey to Beauxbatons
Irina Tolstova looked out the foggy train window and sighed. It was winter in her fifth year at her school, and all students in the fourth year and above were traveling to another school in Europe by boat- but the students were taking the train first. She was thoroughly uninterested in the trip, and had decided that it was a waste of time to travel elsewhere. Irina was reclusive, and despised meeting new people. She especially hated being expected to make friends with people she had never met.
Ivan Smirnov, the headmaster of her school, wrapped in dense, heavy furs, paced the aisles of the train, eyeing all he passed with great mistrust. Irina knew that he wanted their school to win more than usual, as they had lost the previous tournament five years ago. He reached the front of the train. The Headmaster began to lecture the mass of students about proper behavior at the school they were to visit. Irina, uninterested, lent against the partially-open window and shut her eyes, letting the cold air from outside rush over her face.
"I expect each of you to bring honor to our school, and whoever is our Champion, I expect that he- or she- behave respectably in any person's presence." The addition of "or she" made some of the girls look up. This marked the first year that the tournament had allowed girls to participate, though some boys in Irina's class had made it all too clear that it was an absurd idea. However, her teachers had all applauded this decision by the Ministry of Magic, and Ivan Smirnov was only too happy to have a wider selection of students to bring to the tournament.
She leaned beside the window again, boredom overcoming her in the form of drowsiness. As she fell asleep, her last thought was, "It'll be fine. Anyplace has to be better than Durmstrang."
* * * * * *
Jean-Philippe sat at a gold decked table, in an enormous castle in France, laughing and surrounded by friends. He was fourteen and in his fourth year at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. He and his friends were laughing at a joke Jean-Philippe's best friend, Raphaël, had just told them, about a student from Hogwarts and a student from Durmstrang in a fight. After hours of talking about sports- mainly quidditch and football*, which they all were involved in- the conversation had slowly turned to the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, which was to take place at their school this year.
"Who do you think will be Beauxbaton's champion, Jean-Philippe?" asked Raphaël, who had already asked the rest at the table the same question. Most of the members of the conversation had agreed that Christophe, a pompous but bright seventh year, was the most likely choice for champion, mainly because he was well-liked by teachers.
"Oh, of course, it will be me," he joked, and his friends all laughed.
"Not likely, Jean, not likely," Raphaël responded. "Champions are almost always at least in the fifth year. It's possible, but it probably won't happen." The others laughed at his serious response to Jean-Philippe's joke.
"By the way," Jean-Philippe said, "do any of you know who the judge in the contest is?"
"No one will tell us," Jacques grumbled. "My brother Paul won't tell me, he said that the sixth and seventh years aren't supposed to tell us, even though they were there for the last tournament."
"Well, Durmstrang and Hogwarts students are arriving in two weeks, just before Halloween. We'll probably find out then." Raphaël looked at the clock in the main hallway, where they were. "I have a long history assignment due tomorrow!" he realized. "I'd better go finish it!"
With that, the small group disbanded, leaving all members eagerly awaiting the Triwizard Tournament.
* * * * * *
A group of four students stood in a boat, as it pitched and rolled its way across the English Channel on its way to France. They sneered as a group of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students walked by. The four students were of the house of Slytherin, the least-liked school house of the four.
The four began to discuss the impending tournament they were traveling to.
"It's all rot, of course," said one boy, eyeing the Gryffindors' backs angrily. "They'll be chosen, the judge will have to choose the 'brave and daring leaders'", he said, quoting the Sorting Hat's song sarcastically.
"Who knows, everyone has a chance," Timothy Randell said, not paying close attention to the conversation.
"You would say that, wouldn't you, Tim? Anyway, I think it's silly to go to a dumb school like Beauxbatons. At least at Durmstrang they have some slightly more interesting people- and they teach the Dark Arts. Wouldn't that be neat, Hogwarts teaching the Dark Arts!"
"I just wish I could get those 100 galleons prize money!" said Emily Banders, a Slytherin girl. "Think of all the stuff you could get!"
"Yeah," said Henry Gammil. He was a tall, heavy-set sixth year who spoke little, if at all.
"Well, who cares anyway?" asked Timothy, paying closer attention now. "We can all enter our names in the stupid contest, even if we don't get picked. It would be great if we win, but if not, it'll show that there's bias for those annoying Gryffindors! Maybe we can ask Dermot about it. After all, he was in Slytherin when he was a student." Alexander Dermot was the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. He had recently taken the job, and had made some new regulations for muggle-born students that had pleased the Slytherins, and had infuriated everyone else.
The others liked this plan, and were still discussing the finer aspects of what to tell him when the boat reached France. They group disembarked, eager for Halloween and the tournament, when the Gryffindors would be paid back for everything.
*French football is American soccer
Well, there's the first chapter! I hope I can get in another quickly. Also, 100 galleons is not a mistake, it was supposedly worth more a long time ago.
Author's Note: This story takes place some where between 1800 and 1900. It's my first try at chapters, so please don't hate me if they're not that good! It' from all three character's views.
Tournament Chapter one: Journey to Beauxbatons
Irina Tolstova looked out the foggy train window and sighed. It was winter in her fifth year at her school, and all students in the fourth year and above were traveling to another school in Europe by boat- but the students were taking the train first. She was thoroughly uninterested in the trip, and had decided that it was a waste of time to travel elsewhere. Irina was reclusive, and despised meeting new people. She especially hated being expected to make friends with people she had never met.
Ivan Smirnov, the headmaster of her school, wrapped in dense, heavy furs, paced the aisles of the train, eyeing all he passed with great mistrust. Irina knew that he wanted their school to win more than usual, as they had lost the previous tournament five years ago. He reached the front of the train. The Headmaster began to lecture the mass of students about proper behavior at the school they were to visit. Irina, uninterested, lent against the partially-open window and shut her eyes, letting the cold air from outside rush over her face.
"I expect each of you to bring honor to our school, and whoever is our Champion, I expect that he- or she- behave respectably in any person's presence." The addition of "or she" made some of the girls look up. This marked the first year that the tournament had allowed girls to participate, though some boys in Irina's class had made it all too clear that it was an absurd idea. However, her teachers had all applauded this decision by the Ministry of Magic, and Ivan Smirnov was only too happy to have a wider selection of students to bring to the tournament.
She leaned beside the window again, boredom overcoming her in the form of drowsiness. As she fell asleep, her last thought was, "It'll be fine. Anyplace has to be better than Durmstrang."
* * * * * *
Jean-Philippe sat at a gold decked table, in an enormous castle in France, laughing and surrounded by friends. He was fourteen and in his fourth year at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. He and his friends were laughing at a joke Jean-Philippe's best friend, Raphaël, had just told them, about a student from Hogwarts and a student from Durmstrang in a fight. After hours of talking about sports- mainly quidditch and football*, which they all were involved in- the conversation had slowly turned to the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, which was to take place at their school this year.
"Who do you think will be Beauxbaton's champion, Jean-Philippe?" asked Raphaël, who had already asked the rest at the table the same question. Most of the members of the conversation had agreed that Christophe, a pompous but bright seventh year, was the most likely choice for champion, mainly because he was well-liked by teachers.
"Oh, of course, it will be me," he joked, and his friends all laughed.
"Not likely, Jean, not likely," Raphaël responded. "Champions are almost always at least in the fifth year. It's possible, but it probably won't happen." The others laughed at his serious response to Jean-Philippe's joke.
"By the way," Jean-Philippe said, "do any of you know who the judge in the contest is?"
"No one will tell us," Jacques grumbled. "My brother Paul won't tell me, he said that the sixth and seventh years aren't supposed to tell us, even though they were there for the last tournament."
"Well, Durmstrang and Hogwarts students are arriving in two weeks, just before Halloween. We'll probably find out then." Raphaël looked at the clock in the main hallway, where they were. "I have a long history assignment due tomorrow!" he realized. "I'd better go finish it!"
With that, the small group disbanded, leaving all members eagerly awaiting the Triwizard Tournament.
* * * * * *
A group of four students stood in a boat, as it pitched and rolled its way across the English Channel on its way to France. They sneered as a group of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students walked by. The four students were of the house of Slytherin, the least-liked school house of the four.
The four began to discuss the impending tournament they were traveling to.
"It's all rot, of course," said one boy, eyeing the Gryffindors' backs angrily. "They'll be chosen, the judge will have to choose the 'brave and daring leaders'", he said, quoting the Sorting Hat's song sarcastically.
"Who knows, everyone has a chance," Timothy Randell said, not paying close attention to the conversation.
"You would say that, wouldn't you, Tim? Anyway, I think it's silly to go to a dumb school like Beauxbatons. At least at Durmstrang they have some slightly more interesting people- and they teach the Dark Arts. Wouldn't that be neat, Hogwarts teaching the Dark Arts!"
"I just wish I could get those 100 galleons prize money!" said Emily Banders, a Slytherin girl. "Think of all the stuff you could get!"
"Yeah," said Henry Gammil. He was a tall, heavy-set sixth year who spoke little, if at all.
"Well, who cares anyway?" asked Timothy, paying closer attention now. "We can all enter our names in the stupid contest, even if we don't get picked. It would be great if we win, but if not, it'll show that there's bias for those annoying Gryffindors! Maybe we can ask Dermot about it. After all, he was in Slytherin when he was a student." Alexander Dermot was the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. He had recently taken the job, and had made some new regulations for muggle-born students that had pleased the Slytherins, and had infuriated everyone else.
The others liked this plan, and were still discussing the finer aspects of what to tell him when the boat reached France. They group disembarked, eager for Halloween and the tournament, when the Gryffindors would be paid back for everything.
*French football is American soccer
Well, there's the first chapter! I hope I can get in another quickly. Also, 100 galleons is not a mistake, it was supposedly worth more a long time ago.