I'll Show You Real Magic
Disclaimer: The plot, strange new concepts, and unfamiliar characters--- especially Amelie Delacour--- originated from my admittedly warped imagination and therefore belong to me. Everything else is copyrighted by JK Rowling.
Author's Note: I wrote this story because I was tired of all the cheesy Harry Potter fanfiction out there, with their cliches and overdone plots. Hopefully this will add a bit of spice to the HP fandom… Enjoy! And don't forget, whoever reviews gets a Draco Malfoy picture. Really. ^_^
Chapter One
Amelie stared down at her clenched fists resting on her lap, not daring to look at the giant olive-skinned woman seated across her. She wanted to turn back time, to disappear, to be swallowed up whole by the ground…
To die…
"Miss Delacour," said the cold, imperious voice of Madame Maxime, "kindly tell me, in your own words, exactly what happened."
"I was going out of the library---"
"For heavens' sake, child, look at me when you talk! Have you learned nothing about proper etiquette in all your years here at school?"
"My apologies, Madame Maxime." Amelie lifted her chin, meeting her headmistress' hard gaze. She took a deep breath, for courage, then began again, in a much shakier voice. "I was going out of the library, when Dominic came out of nowhere and dragged me into an empty classroom. He tried to--- to---"
"Kiss you?" Maxime guessed.
Amelie nodded, grateful she did not have to say it. "Yes, to kiss me… and more than that--- if you---"
"I know what you mean, Miss Delacour, please go on."
"I would not let him, I resisted, and I hit him across the face. He became very angry, Madame, so angry it was almost frightening. And then he pinned me back against the wall, and he…" She stopped abruptly, the horror of a few moments ago still fresh in her mind, becoming clearer than ever.
Maxime, although a hard woman, was not altogether without compassion. "What happened next, Amelie?" she asked in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. "You must tell me what happened next."
"He died." It was said in a near whisper, followed by a louder exclamation punctuated with a dry sob. "Mon Dieu, he died!"
Even though she already knew about it, Maxime gripped the sides of her chair tightly. "How?"
"Just… just like that! I just looked at him, and all the color went out of his face, and he slumped against me with a groan!" Amelie wrung her hands, becoming hysterical. "I pushed him off me--- he was cold, Madame, so very cold, but his eyes were still open!" Those dark brown eyes, vivid against a ghostly white face, wide and staring, looking at her in an almost accusing manner… "Merde! I do not know what happened… I did not kill him, Madame, please do not send me to Azkaban!" Tears streamed down her cheeks and she covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking, her entire body racked with sobs.
Maxime stared blankly at the hysterical girl. Amelie Delacour was one of the clumsiest, most naïve, and most tenderhearted students in Beauxbatons--- she could barely walk without tripping over her own feet, and she most certainly would not hurt a fly. No, it was impossible, almost laughable, to think that she had killed Dominic St. Yves with her bare hands.
But what had? Surely not just Amelie's gaze…
Maxime stiffened and nearly gasped. Mon Dieu and merde! How could she have forgotten, how could she have let it slip her mind?
"Amelie--- Miss Delacour--- listen to me."
Lifting her face from her hands, Amelie viewed the face of her headmistress, blurry through a curtain of tears. She blinked, and the droplets of warm liquid squeezed out of her eyes and ran down her already wet cheeks.
The expression in Maxime's liquid black eyes was difficult to read. Not condemning, but… urgent? "Amelie, when did you turn sixteen?"
The teenager frowned slightly. "I do not see what relevance---"
"Answer me, child!"
"Just today, Madame."
Everything was starting to make sense now. Maxime stood up, knowing how important it was to act fast. "Stay here," she commanded the girl. "I must talk to Dumbledore."
The name sounded vaguely familiar. "Isn't he the headmaster of Hogwarts, that British wizarding school?"
Maxime nodded briskly, before going out of the room and slamming the door behind her.
~*~
"What is it, Wormtail?"
"Master, there is a message from Robards, he says that the girl has… the girl has Awakened."
There was a pause. And then, in the pitch black darkness of the dilapidated Riddle mansion, a pair of livid red eyes gleamed.
"Excellent."
~*~
"Madame, I have a confession to make," said Amelie softly when Maxime came back into the room.
"Yes?"
"I… I set fire to my bed this morning. I don't know how it occurred. I woke up and flames just shot out of my hand… Madame, what is happening to me?" Teary emerald green eyes looked at Maxime, helpless and bewildered.
The headmistress' heart went out to the girl. "Do not worry," she said as soothingly as possible. "I am sure Dumbledore will be able to help you."
"He is coming here? To France?" Amelie asked, startled.
The reply was one she had never expected, not even in her wildest dreams. "No, Miss Delacour, you are going there. To England."