Authors Note: This story is set in the timeframe of the fourth book, but is in no way movie-verse nor yet alternative universe. I have attempted to put nothing in it that will openly contradict J. K. Rowling's writing. This is my first piece in the Harry Potter fandom, so criticism is highly appreciated.
Guerre aux fripons
Chapter One
In a dark sky that threatened rain, a large powder-blue carriage, drawn by equally imposing winged horses flew towards a place that could not be found on any map: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
As it neared its destination, a pale-faced boy of about seventeen years could be seen to press his face against the cold glass, peering out over a vast lake appearing out of suddenly rugged countryside. From the murky interior, a girl of similar age placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What are you doing, Etienne?" she said, in a thick Provençal accent. The boy called Etienne glanced briefly back at her, then returned his gaze to the lake and the castle beyond it.
She shook him and he responded angrily. "What do you want, Simonne?"
"Just look," she said with disgust. The headmistress of their school was loudly praising the talents of a beautiful golden-haired girl, and assuring all in ringing tones that she was sure to be chosen to compete in the upcoming Triwizard tournament.
"I know," he replied, bored. He turned back to the window, and the girl, Simonne, slipped back into her seat, frowning.
Moments later, the carriage landed with a jolt on the grassy turf outside the castle, and their extraordinarily tall headmistress descended with her prized student, a girl by the name of Fleur de la Cour, followed soon afterwards by the rest of the students of l'Académie de Beauxbâtons, including the boy Etienne and the black-eyed Simonne.
Simonne was shivering in the biting autumn wind. She did not meet the gazes of the gape-mouthed and chattering crowd of foreigners. She wished she had stayed home.
Etienne put his arm around her shoulders. He was not shy; nor was he cold, being from a province of the north. "Ca va," he murmured to her. She told herself to stop behaving like a coward and held her head aloft as they followed their headmistress, Mme Maxime through the crowd of Hogwarts students and into the school.
A wide corridor opened up into an immense room, which seemed to be lacking a roof. Only after a few minutes did she realize that the ceiling must be enchanted to match the now completely black skies outside. Four long wooden tables extended the length of the room, and another stood crosswise at the back.
Their party sat at a central table, draped in blue crepe, a darker shade than their robes. A third person joined Simonne and Etienne, a tiny girl with a great laugh, called Claudette, then a fourth, Claudette's twin brother Camille.
In the course of a few short moments of conversation, Simonne almost forgot her unfamiliar surroundings. This was not to last long however, because soon the Hogwarts students, and those from the third school to compete, Durmstrang, filed in.
A girl from Hogwarts, pretty and round-faced, sat next to Simonne and introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Cho Chang." She held her hand out for Simonne to shake. She took the girl Cho's hand. "H-hello, my name is Simonne Mercier; it is nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too, Simonne." Etienne introduced himself next, and then Camille and Claudette, and Cho introduced them all to her friends.
After they had all met each other, they fell back into their own groups, but she and the rest of the Beauxbâtons students did not feel much like talking; they were still tired from the journey. At least it was warm in the hall.
When they rose at Mme Maxime's entrance, some Hogwarts students sniggered. She paid them no attention, whispering to Etienne as they sat again, "stupides anglais!" He smiled indulgently, but made no comment.
She fumed silently as the Hogwarts headmaster, Dumbledore, had his few words, and food appeared on the golden platters in front of them. Happily, not all the dishes were unfamiliar to her. She did try one that Cho said was called "blood pudding," but immediately spat it back out. "It's a bit of an acquired taste," said another girl of what had been explained to her was Ravenclaw house, at which table they were sitting.
"Just a bit." she replied, flustered. She was relieved when Dumbledore stood again and she no longer had to attempt conversation.
"…But first let me introduce, for those of you who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports…" He continued on, with the rules of the Triwizard tournament, but she had heard it all before from Mme Maxime, so was not much inclined to pay attention.
Surreptitiously, Simonne glanced about her. Fleur was smirking at all Dumbledore said. All the Hogwarts boys, Simonne noticed with irritation, could not take their eyes off her.
She thought everyone was involved completely in what Dumbledore was saying, so she was surprised when Cho asked her, "do you have something against her?"
She turned abruptly. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"Fleur Delacour, do you dislike her?"
"It's complicated."
"All right. I don't mean to pry." She smiled faintly. "See you later?"
"Sure." Cho left with her group of friends.
She heard her friends calling, "let's go, allons-y!" and followed after them. She fell in step with Claudette and Etienne.
"I think you've scared her off permanently," joked Claudette. But Claudette understood her loathing of Fleur, and indeed, it was complicated.
"Oh, well. Perhaps… never mind."
"Hey, what's the holdup?" somebody yelled. The way out was blocked, by who, or what she could not see.
"Etienne, what's happening?"
"It's Harry Potter!" whispered Camille, from Etienne's other side.
"The Harry Potter?" Of course he must be here, she thought belatedly. On her way out she caught a glimpse of him, a younger boy with wild dark hair, which did not conceal his lightening-bolt scar.
"He looks so ordinary," she whispered to no one in particular, incredulous.
"Well what did you expect?" came an imperious voice; Fleur's. "Really, did you think he would be surrounded by some golden aura?" She snorted delicately.
"Salut, Fleur," she replied without looking up, but Fleur had already gone to join her friends Thérèse and Vivienne, and the rat-faced Marcel Godard, who worshipped her.
"Don't pay any attention to them," said Etienne. He kissed her, and again draped his arm around her.
She broke away. "She better not have her name chosen, that's all I can say." Heedless of the cold, she stormed back to the carriage.