I slept the whole way to the school. When I woke up, someone had covered me in a light blanket, but it wasn't enough to stop this Northern chill from reaching me.
I am Fleur Delacour, seventh year at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. I am gorgeous, charming, and intelligent. Though I guess I have my grandmother to thank for it. I wish I could say it's natural, but it's not. Grandmama Celeste was a Veela, so I've inherited my beauty from her. But that's not important now. I'm trying to think about my experiences at Hogwarts Crapshack of Witchcraft and Wizardy. Sorry - thats Hogwarts SCHOOL. Supposedly. I'll apologise right now for my sarcasm. It's my one flaw.
I shivered and wrapped the blanket around myself. It was embroidered in gold with our school's crest, the crossed golden wands. I've seen them almost every day for seven years - the splendor of such a high-class symbol has quite worn out.
Looking out the carriage window, I could see a dingy, drab, and boring castle. Grey, and not a nice grey - like an old wet stone, the kind you stub your toe on at the beach. It was, maybe, three-quarters the size of Beauxbatons, and thats if I'm being generous. And the grounds - ha! There was an iron-colored lake, and it looked dreadful cold. A mangy, dull forest that was probably full of Bowtruckles or some such pest. And to top it all off, a real broken-down, miniscule shack - and I'm not just being mean here, this thing wasn't even half the size of my personal dorm room back at Beauxbatons - thrown haphazardly between a pumpkin patch and the forest. I can tell you right now, my first impression of Hogwarts was hardly misleading. If it weren't for the TriWizard Tournament, my stay at this "school" (if you could even call it one) would have been boring, dull, and ... er ... boring! Hmph! Though the people at Hogwarts were nice, I guess. And the food ... bearable, I'll give it that. Anyway, on to our grand and resplendant arrival at the crapsha-cough at Hogwarts.
What looked like the entire student body was waiting for us in front of a side door. Well, I thought it was a side door, but apparently this was their grand entryway.
They were wearing identical black robes with different scarves - must have been house colors or something, I assumed. I was, of course, correct.
They seemed quite in awe of us. Wonderful. Just what I need, three hundred more people to marvel over the beauty of a part-Veela, brought upon them in a splendid carriage drawn by Abraxan horses and... oh, well, I guess I am pretty excited about this whole thing. Really though, I try not to be. It's quite childish of me to be excited over something as simple as meeting new people who will no doubt worship me.
We landed roughly on the grass, and I reluctantly let my excitement well up inside me. With bounces and bumps that had us all flying 'round the carriage, we slowed to a stop. I could hear the horses pounding their hooves into the ground and I hoped viciously that they left deep marks that wouldn't go away for years to come - remember us, and how special we are! Leaving a tattoo on your WONDERFUL school grounds, never to be erased, because we wished it so! I giggled evilly and the girl beside me shivered, wether from the dreadful cold or my malicious outburst, I'll never know.
Madame Maxime stood and gave us a few words of caution - "Nous sommes ici seulement pour gagner" and "utilisez vos apparances, mes belles!" Basically she told us to flaunt what we've got, we're here to win and show off, nothing more. Blah, blah. Blah. Blah blah.
Madame Maxime gave a great flourishing gesture to follow her. We obediently lined up and made a nice procession out of the carriage. Many students gasped as Madame left the carriage. Clearly they were not used to seeing a woman of her beauty. And height, I suppose - she seems twelve feet tall at times!
Applause reigned just as I exited the carriage, seventh in our line of twelve. Not many Hogwarts students were looking at us, though, they were focused on Madame. I knew the applause wasn't just for mme, anyway. I had wrapped the blanket around my head, you see, so I could give a much nicer show later.
Madame Maxime was talking to Dumbledore. She always mispronounces his name, "Dumbly-dorr" she's called him for so long, I had once thought it was his real name. "My pupils," she said, waving her hand carelessly in our direction. We had stood back near the carriage, waiting for instruction. Suddenly, all eyes were upon us. Now would have been a good time to remove my "shawl", but it was just so cold! I decided to wait until we were inside. A few other girls were copying me. Typical of them.
Madame, with Dumbledore's permission, parted the crowd and led us inside. Augh! I would have much preferred waiting outside to entering The Crapshack. I'm sorry, that's what I call it, I won't tarnish the name of "school" with this ... crapshack.
We gathered in the Entrance Hall, looking about. I looked around briefly, then occupied myself with Jerome, a fellow seventh year. He really had a thing for me back then. I just liked his mouth.
After a few minutes, we could hear a commotion outside, indicating the arrival of Durmstrang. Madame Maxime led us through a doorway into their dining hall - Great Hall, they called it - and to a table. She told us, in our native french of course, that this is their Ravenclaw table. Nearby is Hufflepuff and Slytherin, and on the far wall Gryffindor. Just trying to pronounce their names was torture. "Rrravingclah", fairly close. "'Ufflypoof", terrible! "Sleedairrrin", quite close. "Grrreeffingdor", impossible.
The rest of the school entered then, along with Durmstrang (they chose a seat at "Sleedairin", oh look I was getting a little better). Dumbledore gave a small word of welcome (it made me laugh, this pathetic school!), and then came the food. I decided now would be a great time to remove my blanket-shawl.
I let my sheet of blonde hair cascade down it's full length to my back. I shook my head - a few boys nearby looked as though they had been struck in the face - and smiled seductively, narrowing my icy blue eyes as though saying, "You like, you look, but you're not getting any of this".
I picked daintily at the food. It was good, I guess. Uncomparable to Beauxbatons' wares, but still. I would live. I looked around, bored. Far away, at the "Greefingdor" table, I could see a large dish of bouillabaisse, one of my favorites. It was directly in front of a very homely, red-haired kid. I left my seat to retrieve it, gliding across the room.
"...they've finally found a food the like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers," the red-haired kid said.
"Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" I asked politely in the best English I could muster at that time. His eyes nearly fell out of his head, and he blushed furiously. I found this quite funny, especially when he couldn't speak, though I kept my laughter until I was back at my table with my bouillabaisse.
I ate no dessert, as I am quite obsessive over my figure. Being part-Veela has its disadvantages; I've become quite scary about my appearance.
Eventually, people stopped gorging themselves and the food vanished. Dumbledore gave another speech. This time I was careful not to laugh. We went back to our carriage, and Madame Maxime switched the place from a roomy travelling compartment to lovely living quarters. She used that nifty spell where the inside is large even though the outside is small. I do wish someone would teach it to me. The next morning, before I even had breakfast, I did something that would change my life forever...