Well. Hello again. Welcome to what is a rather, ahem, belated update. The reasons for this update being so late are many and varied. They involve writer's block, school, homework, angst and a giant purple elephant. Well, maybe not the giant purple elephant.

If any of you have read my profile page (which I sincerely doubt you have), you will notice that I have an announcement up there announcing my temporary retirement from fanfiction. This is still going ahead. What I am doing at the moment is using my final days of sanity to exorcise any possible plot bunnies from my system. Turns out I have more sanity left than I thought.

Disclaimer: Nope, me not own Harry Potter.

5:30 pm

Common Room

Resolve not to use dates still applying.

A quick follow up post Operation Eye-Candy War Council. As the one with supposedly the nicest handwriting in our little trio, I have been chosen to write a transcript of the afore-mentioned Discussion. I personally think that this compliment about my handwriting is simply a case of Katie and Angelina being lazy, but hey, I can't exactly complain. They have to write my History of Magic essay for me as part of the deal.

So, here's how the War Council went.

The scene is the Three Broomsticks in the sunny, pleasant town of Hogsmeade. In the now rather full back corner there is a gaggle of girls in the 13-17 year old age bracket. Some look positively murderous, others look simply confused. One of the organisers, a young woman by the name of ANGELINA, addresses the assembled.

ANGELINA: Women of Hogwarts! A French bimbo is taking away the chances we have with those of the masculine gender! Will we stand for it?

There is an awful lot of murmuring, but the general answer is 'no'.

ANGELINA: I thought as much. Therefore, we must come up with a Cunning Plan to put matters to rights!

One of the assembled speaks.

GINNY WEASLEY: And what is this Cunning Plan?

ANGELINA: Well… That's what the War Council is for, actually, to come up with a Cunning Plan.

GINNY: So you haven't got one.

ANGELINA: Shut up, you.

KATIE BELL: I thought you had a plan, Angie.

ANGELINA (embarrassed): Yeah, well…

A tentative girl raises her hand. What was her name again? I really must find out.

TENTATIVE GIRL: We could do something to sort of play down her looks… I mean, it's not like she's that fantastic…

ANGELINA: True.

KATIE: Well, she is part Veela.

ANGELINA: Yes, but apart from that, what is so fantastic about Fleur Delacour?

KATIE: Well, she is a good witch.

ANGELINA: Yes, but apart from that…

KATIE: And her marks must be pretty high if she's in the Tournament.

ANGELINA: Yes, but apart from that- oh, shut up, Katie. (aside, to ALICIA) You can leave that bit out, Alicia.

ALICIA: But you said-

ANGELINA: Oh, never mind.

This was as productive as the War Council got.

As I included the main part of the Council, I really don't see the point in continuing, so there. I'll just round it up by saying that the Council deteriorated into what was basically a bitch fest, and we didn't come up with a Cunning Plan. We will come up with one, though.

Some days later

The First Task, also known as The Day Fleur Delacour Did Not Die.

7:30 pm

Common Room

As mentioned earlier, today was the day of the fabled First Task. It all started off rather early, as at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m Hermione Granger's cat Crookshanks decided that chasing Wilhelmina down the corridor would be quite entertaining. Wilhelmina did not agree, and so responded with some very loud yowling that sounded mysteriously like Celestina Warbeck's Valentine's broadcast.

So basically, the day was off to fairly bad start.

Everyone was really excited about the First Task, even the girls who were glaring at me as if I was personally responsible for their early morning wake up call. Fred and George (insert swoon here) were doing quite a good business as a bet-placing agency, though I did notice George hit Montague with a Jelly-Legs Jinx when Montague tried to place a bet on Harry Potter's immediate death, which consequently sent him tumbling down into the second row.

Those two are just so adorably loyal.

(please not that the next few passsages were no longer legible as they were obscured by severe drooling)

Err… Sorry about that. I nearly forgot to report the Most Important Event of the Day, namely that all Champions are still alive despite being chased around the stadium by several grumpy dragons. Yes, that includes Her Royal Highness Miss Delacour.

The weather's bloody cold at the moment, and the stadium formed a sort of wind tunnel (Katie said that Pansy Parkinson did a great impersonation of someone called Marilyn Monroe at one point, whatever that means), which meant that we were freezing. You know, despite stockings being ugly, I really should consider wearing them one day.

Anyway, that's beside the point. The point, the absolutly wonderful point, is that George Weasley offered to lend me his jumper.

Oh. My. God.

Of course, I'm on good terms with the Weasley twins because of Quidditch (I'm one of the few girls in our year who can actually chat to them without blushing), but still! I was so shocked by it that I missed seeing Fleur Delacour's skirt catching on fire, which Katie and Angelina both assured me was the best thing they'd seen all week.

But who cares? George Weasley, consistently voted onto the Top Ten Hogwarts Hotties list (composed in secret every year around the girl's dormitories) leant me, Alicia Spinnet, his jumper.

Boy, is this going to make the other girls jealous.

Cheers,

Alicia.

So, another Update. Never fear, there will be more. I can't guarantee when, but holidays start soon, so I will certainly try and update then. Cookies to anyone who got the Monty Python reference in this chapter.

Until then, may flocks of Quaffles fly throughout your dreams.