Disclaimer: I do not own any of JK Rowling's characters, etcetera. I only own my made-ups.

When Enemies Meet

The morning sunlight filtered in through the windows, its majestic yellow-white rays illuminating a variety of furniture, casting long shadows across the floor. Five girls lay curled up on their individual four-posters, the hangings pulled shut. There was an aura of serenity in the room of the sleeping girls and the stillness was overwhelming, yet it carried with it a tinge of peace.

'Ariette?'

She opened her eyes – which were the shade of a dark greenish-blue – and saw, to her utmost surprise, a pale face positioned a mere few inches away from her own, which she recognized at once. She, Ariette, sat up instantaneously, almost toppling the other female over. Apologizing, she beamed at the blond sitting in front of her. 'When did you get here?' she asked, excited, and gave her friend a suffocating hug before continuing, 'I thought you wouldn't make it, Juanita! I thought your dad changed his mind when I couldn't find you at the Welcoming Feast last night.'

The girl named Juanita gave a hearty laugh.

'I arrived late last night when everyone was asleep. My dad had a few extra works to complete at the Ministry before he could get me ready to Floo.'

Ariette stared at her childhood friend in awe.

'How is France like? And Beauxbatons? What about the Ministry of Magic, France? You've followed your dad to his office once, didn't you?'

Juanita laughed again at her friend's outburst of excitement.

'There's still time to chat over breakfast, Ari. C'mon.'

- - -

It was hard for Ariette and Juanita to concentrate on their breakfast as each kept popping questions for the other about their summers. Juanita and her dad migrated to France last year because her dad got transferred to the Ministry there. Thus, Juanita was enrolled in Beauxbatons. They returned to Britain after a year when the business was settled in the French Ministry and Juanita rejoined Ariette for their third year at Hogwarts.

'The best part about Beauxbatons is that they – unlike us – needn't take two major exams. We have to take our OWLs and NEWTs but they just take one, whatever it's called.' Juanita explained over a bowl of porridge to an eager Ariette, who was absent-mindedly playing with her bacon. 'Other than that, Beauxbatons is more or less like Hogwarts. Only, they mostly speak French.' Juanita continued, spooning some porridge into her mouth.

They both ate in silence after that, until the post owls soared in through the windows, some dropping packages onto the recipients' laps and some landed in front of the students to deliver scrolls or the Daily Prophet. Ariette looked up after taking a bite of bacon and reached for her goblet of pumpkin juice while Juanita opened her copy of the Prophet. 'Anything interesting?' Ariette asked, looking at Juanita from the rim of her goblet. Juanita shook her head, making her blonde curls billow around her face.

- - -

The Entrance Hall was deserted when they exited the Great Hall, except for a few sixth- and seventh-years who have free periods. The girls made their way past the marble staircase where three seventh-years sat. Two of them were verbally abusing someone by the name of Cormac McLaggen – if Ariette heard it correctly – while one of them, the only girl in the trio, was absorbed in a copy of the Prophet, obviously oblivious of her friends' behavior.

Ariette nudged Juanita and pointed at the three Gryffindors.

'Who are those? That boy with the black hair looks familiar, but I've never seen that girl and the redhead before.'

Juanita contemplated for a while before shrugging.

'Never seen them before.'

The two made their way down a corridor, headed for their first Transfiguration class. They lined up with the rest of the Ravenclaws outside the classroom, not bothering to look at the sniggering Slytherins in a line parallel to theirs.

'Hey Darlby. Darlby!'

A voice called out from the Slytherin line. Ariette turned, and the most horrific sensation filled her. A flame ignited somewhere in the pit of her stomach and she felt an instant hatred for the boy who stood before her. The smirk plastered on his face made the rage in her burn ever brighter.

'What do you want?'

Ariette asked in the coldest voice she could muster. The boy merely laughed.

'Don't you dare talk to me like that. You're just a filthy half-blood.'