(A/N: My sis is a big H.P fan, so she wants me to do this same story, except from his point of view. Which I shall do eventually, since I know how much you all hate cliffhangers. oh well. Get over it. And a note to the Princess Ruby, I do speak French. I'm in French II, and I know how you feel about people slaughtering it. Over half of my class does on a regular basis. Also, to my friends, I'm sorry about using your names. I don't know a whole bunch of French names just off the top of my head. And, does anyone have a clue as to how to format the story so it shows up like I type it? All the letters, etc, aren't like I wanted them. IM me about it if you know. So now, on with the story.)

A crowd awaited him as he passed through the door. Professors were with students, conversing lowly among themselves. Draco looked around in bewilderment, wondering if he was late to somewhere from the trials, or if he was supposed to find someone.

"Pardonez-moi. T'appelles-tu Draco?" a small man, hardly higher than Draco's shoulders, asked him.

"Eh, oui. Et vous, comment vous appellez vous?" Draco replied to the man's query, and questioned the man as to his name in response.

I'm Thibaut. Here at Beauxbatons, I'm a teacher of Potions and Arithmancy, and I am here to congratulate you on your entrance to Soleil. Here, we will expect you to do your best, since we know what you are capable of. And-

How did you decide to put me here? Draco interrogated Thibaut.

Well, we weren't sure for a while, but when you figured out so quickly the piece to transfigure, and the answer to the Sphinx, we knew you were a quick thinker, and worthy of this honour. That's when we decided, just as you walked through the door. Oh, look. Here are some of your new classmates! This is Marguerite, and Jean-Luc. Thibaut introduced Draco to two very sullen students. They had an angry supermodel look about them, like the photographer had instructed them to be mad, and saluted Draco without much enthusiasm.

Bonjour, Draco. We are in our fifth year, because our upperclassmen are gone too. said the girl, Marguerite. Follow us, and we'll show you to your room. Your bags are there already. She turned and walked away, going speedily down the hall as if she wanted nothing to do with this foreigner.

As they walked out of the hall with Draco following, he could hear some of the teachers talking to their appointed students. He sniggered as he realized just whom one instructor was speaking consolingly with. The great Harry Potter.

Now, if you follow Michele here, she'll show you your room. The Renard hallway is just down that way. the effeminate male professor told Potter. He had a look of shock on his rotten face, as if he was astounded that he was the best for once.

Draco kept walking, trying to keep the girl and boy in his sight. Suddenly, there they were, halted, amazed, before a great set of double doors. Jean- Luc placed his hand upon a silver coat-of-arms that was where the door handles should have been. Only Soleil students can open this, Jean-Luc enlightened Draco in response to his perplexed look. It's like one of those Muggle fingerprint identifiers. Like that helped relieve Draco's confusion.

The portal swung inward, revealing a room of outstanding scope. This wasn't called the Sun house without reason, he surmised. All the beds were yellow pine, and covered in gold-weave coverlets. Louis Quatorze chairs were situated everywhere, rich brocade adorning it all. And this was just the parlour!

The walls did not have paintings hanging on them, but rather they were painted directly on the surfaces. This made for an interesting effect as the figures moved about, dancing in two dimensions. Each painting took up one panel of the wall, framed by moulding hanging around them. The pictures, though all different, focused on the theme of people dancing. They ranged from Degas' ballerinas to classical artwork of traditional dances from around the world. Every one was vibrant, pulsating with colour and motion, not all of it from the character moving.

Spying another door up a short set of stairs, Draco walked towards them. Eh, you don't want to go into there. Those are the girls' chambers. Ours are over here, up this flight. Jean-Luc called out. Here. I'll show you and you can put up all of your stuff in your wardrobe. Draco turned and walked back down the stairs, still taking in all the newness of the site.

The dormitory held the boys of all ages, not just dividing them by years like at Hogwarts. The younger boys, obviously waiting for the recently sorted, crowded around Draco like a rare scientific specimen.

I'm Pierre! I'm Gabriel! And other names they called out. Draco was overwhelmed by the greeting they gave him. He hadn't expected anything like this when he left. He though everyone would just leave him alone, like they always did everywhere else he went.

Salut... Are you all in this house? He asked, certain that some of these people had to be from another dorm. Shocked when they nodded empathetically, he continued, getting straight to the point. I'm Draco. Which bed is mine?

You get to choose from the ones that the others left when they went away, piped up a small, brown-headed boy. They all had those beds down at the far end, sticking together, is what they always said. We do the same thing though, taking the beds of those who left the year before. That's the way it goes.

Draco pointed to a bed situated underneath a stained glass window, bathed in Technicolor light. Is there anyone in that bed? He queried of the sprout that had just talked to him. At his headshake, Draco said he'd take it. His bags and trunks of school stuff appeared at the foot of the bed, and upon his desk.

Draco walked over, followed by the eyes of every student, and started putting his things up. At the creak of the door, everyone looked over. Another new student, this one apparently American to judge by his cool look and sun bleached hair, came into the room. Hi, there. My name's Thomas, and I am from the American School for the Training of Magical Persons. Who might my fellow transfer be? He asked, in a laughing, melodic voice. The crowd of students parted so that Thomas might see Draco, who stood up at the word American.

Draco uncharacteristically stuck out his hand in a gesture for shaking. "I'm Draco," he said in English. "I'm from Hogwarts, in England. Would you like to take the bed next to me? It's free, but might not be if you wait much longer to decide. Did you just get here?"

"Yeah, and sorted. They didn't want to call another assembly, because they would have to for the rest of the people, too. The group from Mozambique just got here, and they're doing the trials now." Said Thomas. "Hey, who are the girls here? Are they cute?"

Wow, did that sound like a repeat of Genevieve. "I don't know who else besides a girl from my school, Hermione. She's a smarty, but not really sociable, if you ask me." That wasn't true. She was, just not with Draco, or his friends. "So, do you want this bed or not?"

"Sure. Where's the closet? I want to hang up my robes so they don't get wrinkly." Thomas said, unwittingly making a fool of himself.

Choking back snickers at Thomas' ignorance, Draco told him, "We use wardrobes. That's it by the bed. The house elves will iron anything for you, if you leave it out. So don't worry about stuff wrinkling."

With an abashed look, Thomas turned to the wardrobe and began to unpack. His robes, cut in the latest American fashion, were stunning to the untrained eyes of the younger students. Even his boxers were fancy. Draco just continued his unpacking, sharing an occasional comment with Thomas, and vice versa.

Finally, all was done and the newcomers settled. No other newbie had arrived, and it was time for a group meeting to discuss rules, and such.

Draco was a part of the group, and had a new acquaintance, whom Draco thought he might become good friends with.

Beauxbatons didn't seem that bad.