Hello everybody! As the title say, there's not much really happening in this chapter, I was just wondering what Fleur's first impressions might be like.

Chapter 9 – Killing time

Nov 1st, 1994

Mme Maxime took us for a tour of the village today. It's called Hogsmeade, and is said to be the only entirely magical place in Britain. Indeed, there is not really very much to it, it's a lot like Batonville in this respect. Of course, it looks different; the houses are made of dark stone and must be awfully cold most of the time. (In fact, I very much doubt whether it ever gets warm in this part of the world.) There are boxes for flowers in front of most windows, and each house has a front garden. There are no flowers there at this time of year, naturally, but I can imagine it looks quite pretty in summer. There are not really any shops worth mentioning, although the Hogwarts students seem to be crazy about Honeyduke's, which is a sweet shop, and Zonko's, which, to judge from the bangs and smells coming from it, must be dealing in the less than intelligent sort of jokes. There is also a place there that calls itself a fashion store, but it's a laugh, I'm sure none of us would want to be seen dead in any of their things.

The only place of interest, - if you can call it that, - is what they claim to be the most haunted building of Britain; actually, it's a rather plain derelict one-storey house with boarded-up windows that has apparently not been lived in for many years. It's somewhat disappointing, thinking of all the hair-raising stories I've heard about haunted places in Scotland.

Maxime also allowed us to go into the local inn (it's called The Three Broomsticks, what a funny coincidence!) for one mug of butterbeer (I think I'm going to use the English name for it, it also tastes somewhat different). This is another favourite place of the Hogwarts students, and when we entered, it was quite full. I still don't understand how Maxime managed to get in without the place bursting to pieces; she must be using some magic of her own.

Of course, everybody stared at her, and as I was wearing my muffler, nobody seemed to take much notice of me, but you can't very well have a drink with a shawl round your head, and as soon as everybody saw my hair, the well-known murmur started. I've often wondered whether there is some sort of magic connected with it, perhaps there is some trace of the Veela magic in it that makes people react to it in that typical way. There must be SOMETHING about it, as I can't even cut it shorter, it's always this pretty inconvenient length.

Thankfully, we did not stay long, and soon afterwards were back in our carriage. Now I'm going to write a really long report to Gabrielle about these last three days; I'm sure she's dying to hear the news. Regular lessons are starting tomorrow, and although, as a champion, I won't have to do any exams at the end of the year, I'm expected to sit in classes, do homework, and all the other things. I suppose, though, it's a good thing, because I don't really know what I'd do all day long, as there isn't anything at all I can do in preparation for the first task. I wonder how they will manage the technical side of teaching us with the teacher remaining over at Beauxbatons. I'll know tomorrow, I guess.

Nov. 2nd, 1994

It's amazing, really! I had imagined that we'd just sit in that small common room in front of the fireplace, and the teachers' heads would appear there and talk to us. Far from it! There is apparently some spell, - it must be a very advanced one, - that gives you the perfect illusion of being in a classroom back in Beauxbatons, together with all the other students of one's respective classes. You can even talk to everybody, and they can answer; the only thing is you cannot get into any physical contact with them, and you cannot move out of that classroom. It would be nice to use this spell to talk to Gabrielle; I heard Maxime murmur something like realitas virtualis, but even if I had heard the exact wording, I'm sure no student can perform it. But if I ever get to the Hogwarts library, I'll have a shot at looking it up, they have the largest magical library of Europe, and so they'll probably have something about this one, too.

Charmaine was stunned when she suddenly saw me appear in the transfiguration classroom, and she was positively speechless (and that is saying a lot), when I told her that I had been selected as champion. It seems they are having quite a laid-back time over at Beauxbatons, what with Maxime off their backs and everything, and I can really imagine that. She is making quite a nuisance of herself, wanting to keep us all under her wing constantly. I hope she'll relent some time soon.

I have taken to playing chess with Iphigenie, who is an astonishingly good player, and has already beaten me several times. She still is not much of a talker and can sit staring out of the window for ages. I believe she has a boyfriend back there, but I don't want to ask her. It must be nice to have someone who is actually missing you, - well, I have Gabrielle, of course, but it's just not the same.

Nov. 6th, 1994

It's quite amazing it's one week already. This has been a rather uneventful time, so far; the weather has been cold and rainy, and so we have hardly been able to get out. We just keep to the daily routine, and even the trip over to the castle for dinner is nothing new or interesting any more. However, we are slowly getting to talk to the students from the other schools, which is something, I suppose.

I have become somewhat friendly with the Asian girl who told me about Viktor Krum. Her name is Cho Chang, and her parents come from Hong Kong, although she herself was born in Birmingham. And she is Cedric Diggory's girlfriend.

"You'd better not talk to me too much, then," I told her on hearing this. (I'm sure my English is quite terrible, but I seem to be able to make myself understood, anyway.) "I don't want people to get the idea in their heads that I am spying on my competitor."

"Rubbish!" she laughed. "If you ever try anything like that, I'll be smart enough to notice and tell you to get lost, ok? Moreover, people could say the same about me, right?"

I agreed and she proceeded to tell me about Viktor Krum and his exploits at the Quidditch World Cup, how he "wanted to end it on his terms", as she put it, getting a horribly smashed face in the process.

"Really, looking at him, you'd never believe all this" I remarked, pointing in the direction of the table where he was sitting. "He looks absolutely fed up with everything, life itself, if you ask me ... "

"Yes, I've wondered myself," she said thoughtfully. "I guess it's because he's so famous. You have noticed all those girls, haven't you?"

I had, indeed. Right from the second or third day, there has been this gaggle of girls (I'm ashamed to admit there are some Beauxbatons among them) trailing after him, giggling and nudging each other, asking him to sign things for them. I hope I'm wrong, but I believe one handed him some knickers for signing! He must really hate it; everyone sucking up to him because of his fame, no one bothering about what he really is like.

Writing this I have just realised that in some ways I have something in common with Viktor Krum ... Of course, he has a choice where I have none, he could just stop playing Quidditch, while I can't even cut my hair, but we are in a similar situation, aren't we? Strange, though, that a distinct feeling of revulsion creeps up in me when I look at him.

Cho remarked on this too. "I do admire him, and everything," she told me. "But I keep asking myself if it's a coincidence he and the other Durmstrangs chose their seats at the Slytherin table..."

Apparently Slytherin is the one house at Hogwarts all the others hate, and Cho went on to tell me that most if not all the dark wizards in history had come from this house. It's similar to our Maison Gnomone, who shares this infamous record.

The Durmstrangs are really a rather strange lot. First of all, their delegation only consists of boys; now this doesn't automatically imply that they are a boys only school, but it very much suggests it. I have read that people tend to be more conservative in the east, and this seems to be one example. I have also noted that the Durmstang headmaster – I keep forgetting his name – has been favouring Viktor Krum from the beginning, even before he was selected as champion. Now I must hand it to Maxime that she does her best to treat me on an even basis with the others, but of course, the fact in itself that I won't have to do any exams gives me a great advantage over my classmates. I wonder whether being champion means that you automatically pass your finals in the end of seventh year – if you ARE a seventh year, that is, which I'm not. It seems so – how absolutely unfair I will still have to do them next year!

I'm rambling again. I wanted to write about the Durmstrangs. As I said, they are only boys, most of them a lot larger than Krum. I'm probably superficial and judging by appearances only, but I can't say that I like them. Apart from their rough sounding language they look rather untidy, most of them have long greasy hair, and very often there are stains on their robes. Their dandylike headmaster is a striking contrast, which gives him an aura of dishonesty. However, they all seem to get on quite well with the Slytherin students at their table. I know I must be careful not to let myself be prejudiced, but I do have an uncomfortable feeling about them.

Nov. 8th, 1994

Sunday evening. Nothing much has actually happened but Maxime seems to be relenting in her close supervision. The weather was bright and sunny, if cold, and today she allowed us to go out on our own.

"That's great," Iphigenie said to me. "Let's go to the village." And then, seeing my hesitation, she inquired, "What's the matter with you? Don't you think you need a change, too?"

"Of course I do," I told her, "but you know how everybody reacts … I just hate it when they are all gaping at me like stupid morons."

"I think I can handle that," she smiled, "come here…"

She grabbed my hair, and twisted and rolled it up in an intricate way, until it was a tight mass round my head.

"Now you'll put on this," she said, producing a shimmering blue-green fabric, and covered my head with it. "I suppose this will do. Come over to the mirror."

It did look rather strange, as if my head was twice ist usual size, but at least all my hair was hidden beneath the scarf.

"Thanks," I said. "It looks like a severe case of hydrocephalus, but let's give it a try."

It worked, more or less; I did get several stares, to be sure, but this time I was satisfied to see curiosity or perhaps even slight revulsion in them. The whole arrangement, however, was so uncomfortable that I don't think I will use it very often.

When we entered, there was a loud discussion going on among the Hogwarts students in the pub, although it did not sound like a quarrel. When we had found a table and had ordered our drinks, we could hear the argument more clearly.

"And I still say he cheated and made fools of averybody," I heard a boy say.

"Of course he did," a tall black girl agreed. "How absolutely clever of him. I'd never have thought it could be done. But then, Harry has always been someone special..."

"How CAN you possibly say such a thing?" the blonde boy's voice was dripping with false self-righteousness. "We can't have this, you know. What would the world be coming to if everybody showed such TERRIBLE disregard for rules?"

And he pressed a badge on his lapel, which suddenly flashed POTTER STINKS in vivid green. Two thuggish boys next to him broke into guffaws.

"Ah, shut up, Malfoy," the black girl retorted. "You're just jealous there's no Slytherin champion."

"How stupid they are," I said to Iphigenie. "Do they really believe a fourth year student could have done it?"

"You heard that Malfoy type," she replied. "I think they are long past reasoning. Now, it's just a matter of pride and jealousy for them. I think they'd believe a first year could have done it"

"You're probably right; I wonder how he feels. It must be pretty hard for him either way."

When we approached the carriage, Margaux stopped us and pointed. "Look!" she giggled.

Some distance away, - it's difficult to guess at distances when the object in the distance is about twice the size it should normally be, - wesaw Maxime walking along the lake together with the large Hogwarts teacher that usually sits at the High Table at dinner. The afternoon sun illuminated them very clearly. I must say I have never seen such an odd couple. Maxime, huge but perfectly gracious and elegant in her shiny black satin robes next to that enormous hulk of a man, an untidy mass of black hair on his head and in his face, wearing that horrible hairy brown suit with a checked orange and yellow tie. The amazing thing, however, was that there was not a centimetre difference in height between them. I've never realised just HOW huge Maxime really is.

Anyway, they seemed to get on very well with each other and were talking animatedly. I must ask Cho for that man's name tomorrow.

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Ok, keep tuned for the next part, which will have a Harry/Fleur meeting again. And some reviews would be a nice idea, too.