Even to this day, almost fifty years later, I remember everything. Every word uttered, every smell, every feeling of excitement and despair. Ever since I had turned sixteen I vowed to myself that I would never forget. I never forgot him. I never forgot who did it. And I will never forget why it happened.

"Rachelle?" someone shook me awake. I swatted at whoever it was, feeling outraged that they had the nerve to interrupt me from my slumber. "Rachelle!" they barked again, "You're going to be late for class!" I sheepishly swatted again and pulled my silk blanket over my face and tucked it under my head. That rude someone groaned, and pulled the blanket completely off of me, and I shot up. "Give me five minutes! All I ask for is FIVE MINUTES!" I screamed, not even opening my eyes yet. The person who took my blanket laughed. In front of me I saw a pretty girl with black, curly hair, dark skin, dazzling, sea green eyes, and a bright smile to match, dressed already in her light, button-up shirt and pleated light-blue skirt. "What t-time is it?" I tried to say through a large yawn. "Ten minutes until potions," she replied, with a look on her face that screamed superiority. I let out a small scream, and ran to my dresser to get ready. "As together as you may seem, you really need me. What would you do without your best friend?" she chuckled, that same look covering her face. "Oh, shut it, Sophie."

I grabbed my brush and quickly ran it through my hair. At fifteen years old and in my fifth year at Beauxbatons Academy of Wizardry, just like all the other girls of my age, I was quite unsatisfied with my appearance. When I look back today I have to laugh at all that time I spent envying my sister. She was absolutely breathtaking, but I wasn't too bad myself. I had just gotten out of an awkward stage, but I carried around that outlook on myself and that same lack of self-confidence for most of my youth. Pity, because I had a soft sheet of golden blonde hair, fair skin, a trim figure, and sparking light blue eyes. I slipped on the same uniform that my friend was sporting, grabbed my school things, and ran out of our dormitory.

I still remember the atmosphere of that day. The sun streamed through the tall, glass windows of Beauxbatons and played upon the white plaster that covered the castle. Sea breeze streamed in through the windows and graced us students with a splash of bliss. Usually, the students could be found running up and down the corridors, laughing, always cheerful. But that day, everything seemed anxious. Students congregated in clusters, buzzing back and forth from group to group. There seemed to be the same thing on everyone's lips, "the tournament." I thought it to be a large quidditch tournament that we had every so often, so I brushed it off. However, I did catch another phrase, flying every which-way, weaving between assemblages and turning heads wherever it flew, "They'll tell us tonight."

My classes seemed to go as slowly as possible in anticipation for dinner that night. When dinner finally came upon me, I was practically dying. My usual dinner table, which regularly would have been loud with laughter and my obnoxious friends, and I mean that in the best possible way, was subdued and jittery. After what seemed like hours, our headmistress, Madame Maxine, gently tapped her champagne flute with her wand and rose to speak.

Twice the size of a normal woman, when she rose, she towered above the other professors. She was magnificent, though. Like a mother to all of us. That night, she wore a light green silk robe, had her hair tied up in a knot in the back of her head, and wore many glittering pieces of jade jewelry to match her robes. She batted her long eyelashes and parted her voluminous lips gently to speak in fluent French, as we all did at Beauxbatons. "As you all have probably heard, there is said to be a competition this fall. There has been quite a lot of trouble from the ministry of Great Britain to arrange this, and I'm sure you are just as excited as they. This year Hogwarts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry is going to hold the Triwizard Tournament!" At these words, a tumultuous buzzing from the students broke out. "Silence!" Madame Maxine snapped, and continued. "Students above the fourth year are urged to enter. One student from our lovely Beauxbatons will be selected by an impartial judge, and compete against two other young wizards, one from Hogwarts, and one from Durmstrang. They will be put through a series of tasks to test their knowledge, logic, courage, and skill as a wizard, and the one who comes out on top will be crowned Triwizard Champion! A group of, say, fifty students will travel to Hogwarts next week and stay for the remainder of the year there. The students thought to be mature and wise enough to go will be announced within the next week. Good luck, and good night!"

"Promise to write every day?"

"Yes, Sophie, I promise"

I grinned and hugged my crying best friend. Though she boasted of keeping me together, I wondered how she'd fare without me. As I bid goodbye to the last of my friends, I heard a voice behind me.

"Rachelle, the coach is leaving!"

I sighed, exasperatedly, and turned around. Behind me was my sister, Fleur. In her seventh and final year at Beauxbatons, she was what I and most of our school considered perfection. She was at the top of her class, kind, popular, and beautiful. I looked quite a bit like her, though our Veela blood showed more in her. Instead of having golden hair like mine, hers was silvery-blonde. Her eyes were a lighter shade of blue, and her skin glowed more than mine. Oh, how I envied her.

She quickly placed a levitation charm upon my luggage and gestured for it to follow us. I rolled by eyes and hugged my friends again. I was the only one of my friends who was going to Hogwarts, and very sad about it. Thinking back, I was rather popular and quite alike my sister, though I was too blind to see it. I flew up the stairs of the carriage, and clutching my silver, silky Beauxbatons robe together, I waved to my friends, and entered the carriage. The carriage, though fairly sized, was gigantic inside. It had a large living room, and dormitories for all fifty students attending the journey. My sister and a group of her friends had already seated themselves in a grouping of squishy chairs. She signaled for me to come over to her. "Rachelle, have you completed that drawing yet?" Fleur's current boyfriend, a tall, tanned boy with a smile and eyes that made me melt, asked. I nodded, and pulled my sketchpad out of my bag. I was very artistically gifted, and was proud to show anyone possible the small talent that separated me from my sister. I was artistic, talented in quidditch, and rather boyish, and my sister attracted men like there was no tomorrow. I've always thought our grandmother's Veela blood showed more in her than I. Fleur's boyfriend complimented me on the picture I had drawn of Fleur and him together. I had drawn Fleur and whatever boyfriend she had at the time so often that I drew one picture of Fleur, used a duplicating charm upon it, and drew in the significant other. Fleur noticed this, and winked at me.

After a few minutes, I felt my stomach lurch foreword as our carriage began to descend. One of Fleur's friends grabbed my hands in excitement. For the last week, I had a grim outlook upon this tournament because I knew Fleur would become Champion and I would cower in comparison to her, once again, but at that moment, I began to channel the excitement that filled the carriage to the brim. We felt a gentle bump, and the carriage door swung open.