I told myself I absolutely refused to let it become a year.
Here I am, exactly nine days away from it being a whole year. I'd apologize, but there's really no excuse. All I can say is that this chapter was really grueling. The entire section after the champions were chosen was probably the most tedious thing I've ever written. It's so hard to adapt something that isn't yours. Ugh, it took me forever, but I'm finally pleased with how the chapter turned out, so thanks for waiting until I was content with it.
As always, Yann has an amazing response time, and we can thank him for our French.
A message from my editor:
And a special thanks to the only friend who always edits my stories for me, thanks Em!
oh thanks melissa! youre so sweet!
That evening, Terese, Zoe, Susanne, Gabrielle and I headed from the carriage back to the castle. I spent the entire trek across the damp, chilly grounds in silence, as the other four chatted around me. I tried to focus on their conversation a few times, but I was too enveloped in my thoughts.
Why did I want to be in this Tournament anyway? Well, that one was easy enough to answer. Fame. Fortune. Everyone wanted to be noticed, to be appreciated, to be important. But for me, it was more than that. I needed to be noticed. I needed to be appreciated.
But I was. People noticed me. I was beautiful, stunningly so, and I was smart, and unnaturally good at what I did. So why did it feel so important to be in this potentially dangerous Tournament?
I was powerful, beautiful, reckless, and overconfident. I had nothing to gain, but everything to lose. So I threw myself in headfirst. No, not headfirst. Ego-first. I needed to get in. I needed to win. Everything was on the line.
When we reached the hall, Madame Maxime lead us all in. We filed along to the Ravenclaw table, sweeping along, loosing a few here and there as people choose spots. I slid in next to a smaller boy, and he and his friends quickly split themselves to make room for us. Cho sat across from me, surrounded by her group.
"Hey, Fleur," she said, smiling at me.
"Cho," I greeted, rather icily. I wasn't here for pleasantries. A swirling pit of nerves was eating its way around in my stomach. Nervousness. A foreign feeling to me.
But, as it turned out, we had to eat before the Goblet could make its decision. It was very tiresome, trying to force my nerve-filled stomach to accept food. When, finally, the last of the food melted into the golden plates, I was practically ready to throw up. Not that anyone would have been able to tell. I had been the picture perfect image of refined and graceful calmness the entire affair. Even Gabrielle herself hadn't noticed, which I was quite proud of, although I supposed she was a bit preoccupied with maintaining her English.
Dumbledore stood up, readying himself to address us all. "Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber," he said, gesturing to a door behind the Professors. "Where they will be receiving their next instructions."
Come to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber, I repeated in my mind so I would remember when I had to do just that.
Dumbledore waved his wand and all the candles except the ones in the creepy looking carved pumpkins went out, sending the hall into an eerie darkness.
I allowed myself half a minute of weakness, to take a huge breath in, then let it out slowly. Gabrielle glanced at me in surprise, the dim lighting casting dark shadows over her soft features, making them appear sharper, gaunter. I took her hand. It was a miniature version of mine. Soft, slim, flawless, porcelain skin. Her mouth opened slightly in surprise. My expression hardened, daring her to comment. She just gave me a soft smile, and turned back to the front, squeezing my hand.
Suddenly, the flames glowing in the goblet flashed red, sending the fire up, sparks scattering in every direction. My eyes caught the piece of paper fluttering down to the ground with its glowing brethren, charred at the corners.
Dumbledore nimbly caught the paper, holding it out to read it. My stomach turned unpleasantly, and I was grateful for the dark that hid my expression.
"The champion for Durmstrang-"
The minute he said the word, relief spread over me. It wasn't Beauxbatons yet. The hall exploded into cheers, louder than I would have expected for a champion not from Hogwarts. Gabrielle squeezed my hand again, as the Durmstrang champion, a good looking boy whose entire physique was ruined by his perpetually sour expression, stomped off behind the staff table and into the back room.
"Viktor Krum? I did not even know 'e was still in school!" Susanne exclaimed, clasping her hands. I barely even heard her or registered what she said.
The red fire in the goblet shone brightly around the room again as Dumbledore caught the next piece of paper.
"The champion for Beauxbatons-"
Everything slowed down, and I felt like my senses had gone into overtime. The bench felt hard underneath me, and each breath that I took felt like it was swelling my chest up like a balloon, my rib cage expanding and contracting as I let the air come whooshing out. I saw Bridgette, who had turned around to grin at me, and for the first time since I had heard of the Tournament I felt… doubt. What if-
"is Fleur-"
I didn't even hear my last name because it was drowned out by the deafening cheers of my friends and my sister. Gabrielle let go of my hand as I rose, the nerves gone in a second. Bridgette was actually crying.
"Congratulations, Fleur!" Cho screamed over the clapping, grinning.
I felt like myself again. I shook out my hair. A smile slid over my lips as I pranced up the aisle to the staff table. I felt powerful again. I felt imposing again.
Why did I ever doubt myself again? I was me. No one was going to stand in my way.
I strode into a much smaller room. This was my specially. Entrances. When I walked in, Viktor Krum, who I hadn't even realized was that Viktor Krum, looked up. Even he wasn't immune to me. His mean expression smoothed into one of awe. Then he shook himself and became moody again.
I disregarded him and choose to study the room. It was covered in pictures of old wizards and witches. Some of the wizards were even gazing at me as though I shone with holy light. I checked my Charm. Sure enough, in my self involvement, my Charm had begun to glow much stronger. I focused, and it lowered to a respectful amount. Not at the level I usually kept it at, but still okay. I wasn't going to lower it to my usual level. Not yet. No. This was my moment.
I walked over to join Viktor near the fire. Moments later, I heard muffled cheers. They got louder as the door opened, then quieter as the door shut. Viktor and I turned to face our newest rival. A tall, moderately handsome boy with messy brown hair and a grin on his face. He joined us quickly by the fire.
Silence descended. I was fine with that. More time to think about Bridgette's expression when I was made champion, not her.
The door swung open again. I turned, and saw a smaller, skinny boy with messy black hair and huge emerald eyes enlarged by his wire glasses. Harry Potter… a voice in my mind reminded me.
"What is it?" I asked, assuming he had a message. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"
He just stood there staring at us. I wondered if maybe he wasn't as strong willed as I thought. My Charm wasn't that high, was it…?
Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded, then I saw Ludo Bagman, the round, cherry looking man.
"Extraordinary!" he said, his voice quieter than usual, seizing Harry Potter's arm and gripping rather hard. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen… lady," he said, giving me a nod. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "May I introduce- incredibly though it may seem- the fourth Triwizard champion?"
The English here sure had a strange sense of humor, but, nonetheless, I smiled politely at the older man, tossed my hair back over my shoulders and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."
Mr. Bagman's excited expression slid slightly. "Joke? No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
It was my smiles turn to falter. "But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," I said, fighting to stay polite. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."
"Well… it is amazing," he said, giving Harry Potter a very proud smile. I tried not to say something I would later regret. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure-"
I stopped listening, my only priority being keeping from blowing up. This… this child was destroying my moment. A fourteen year old in the competition made it look like it was for children!
The door swung open a fourth time since I had entered it. Dumbledore entered, trailed by Mr. Crouch, the Durmstrang headmaster Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and two other Hogwarts professors.
"Madame Maxime!" I cried, making a beeline for her, thrilled to have an actual reasonable superior. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"
She placed her hand on my shoulder, and immediately I felt the familiar sensation of being slightly lopsided. Madame Maxime was furious. She looked very imposing, at her full height. "What is ze meaning of zis Dumbly-dorr?"
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said, sounding like he was as furious as Madame Maxime was. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me that the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" I felt slightly better knowing I had several people and the rules on my side.
"C'est impossible," Madame Maxime growled, and her hand tightened absently on my shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most unjust."
"We were under the impression that your age line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," Karkaroff continued, and I could tell he was going to be very vocal about his - and by default my - rights. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."
Madame Maxime and I nodded firmly.
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," a gross man with greasy hair said. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here-"
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted, his tone silencing. His firmness left me with no doubts that progress was going to be made now. Plus, I was glad he had cut off the man named Severus. His ridiculous and very obvious grudge against a fourteen year old boy seemed very childish to me. I didn't have time for it. Neither did Dumbledore, apparently. "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked the rather lost looking boy gently. I almost snorted. Like he would ever say yes.
"No," Harry Potter said. At that, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Severus actually did snort.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" Dumbledore continued, his voice still soft.
"No," Harry Potter said very firmly.
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" burst Madame Maxime, her huge fingers cutting into my shoulder. Severus looked like he was enjoying every glorious moment.
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," the second Hogwarts professor spoke up, and her sharp cheekbones and firm, gray bun made me believe she was a tightly wound woman. "I am sure we are all agreed on that-"
Madame Maxime cut her off. "Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," she said.
But for the first time in the conversation, I disagreed with my Headmistress. I had walked over that line. It was a powerful, binding piece of magic. An expertly crafted Ward. I remembered being impressed with the power I could feel humming in the runes. I was sure even Gabrielle and Zoe, amateurs, at best, had felt it.
It took a powerful Ward Master to recognize another.
There was no mistake in that line.
"It is possible, or course," said Dumbledore. I shook my head. Madame Maxime seemed not to notice.
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" snapped the second Hogwarts professor. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everyone else!" she finished, shooting a nasty look at her colleague.
"Mr. Crouch… Mr. Bagman," said Professor Karkaroff, his voice sounding as smooth and as oily as the gross man Severus's hair. I shivered slightly as the sound crept over my skin, leaving me feeling dirty. "you are our - er - objective judges. Surely you will agree this is most irregular."
We all waited for Mr. Crouch, who took his sweet time for someone supposedly so busy, but when he did speak, he sounded as brisk and as businesslike as usual. "We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."
Mr. Bagman seemed pleased by this answer. He grinned and clapped his hands like that was that. "Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front."
Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were both outraged. "I insist on submitting the names of the rest of my students," Professor Karkaroff insisted, his eyes burning with rage, but a fake smile plastered to his face. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that. The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament-" Mr. Bagman started.
"-in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Professor Karkaroff had completely dropped his polite mask. "After all of our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff," came a raspy voice that made my skin crawl. I turned to look and found a horrible, wrinkled, looking man. He was burly, lumpy looking, with one large wooden leg striking dully against the stone floor. The most horrifying part of him was his eye. It was blue, whizzing around horribly in his socket, almost as though it had a mind of its own.
I sucked in a breath and his eye shot to stare at me. It followed me as he made its way through the room. I felt a shiver slide up my spine. I hated him and he hadn't even said four words.
"You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?" the horrid man tilted his head threateningly at Karkaroff.
Karkaroff bristled. "Convenient? I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody," I wondered if he was talking about what Moody had just said, or Moody himself.
"Don't you? It's very simple, Karkaroff," Moody talked as though Karkaroff was the one who was simple. "Someone put Potter's name in the goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."
"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" Madame Maxime cried, her hand heavy.
Karkaroff bowed at her. "I quite agree Madame Maxime. I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards-"
"If anyone's got a reason to complain, it's Potter. But… funny thing… I don't hear him saying a word," Moody said.
"Why should 'e complain!" I actually stamped my foot in frustration, my anger boiling over. "'E 'as a chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"
"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it." Moody growled, sinister as one could be.
I was stunned into silence. The whole room paused as we all wondered whether this guy was for real.
"Moody, old man… what a thing to say!" Mr. Bagman said nervously.
"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to to murder him before lunchtime. Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons." Karkaroff said, his tone incredulous.
"Imagining things, am I? Seeing things, eh?" he took a step towards Karkaroff, who leaned back looking stony. I could imagine the probably harsh warmth of the man's breath on his face. I shivered again. "It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in a goblet…"
"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" Madame Maxime asked, throwing her hands up then dropping them back on my shoulders. Only experience kept me from lurching forward. Moody shifted back from Karkaroff to address the room, and I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in.
"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object! It would needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting only three schools compete in the tournament… I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category…" Moody said, his tone dark with suspicion and paranoia. I automatically felt uncomfortable.
"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody, and a very ingenious theory it is - though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realising it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…" Karkaroff said darkly. I felt slightly better. Moody was a nut job, a conspiracy theorist.
"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage. It's my job to think as Dark wizards do, Karkaroff - as you ought to remember…" Moody said, advancing on Karkaroff again.
"Alastor!" Dumbledore warned. Moody stopped, and I wondered what on Earth he could have meant. Definitely owling my parents when I got back to the carriage. "How this situation arose, we do not know. It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore, they will do…"
"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -" Madame Maxime protested for me.
"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it." Dumbledore said politely, and Madame Maxime, Professor Karkaroff, Snape, and I all glared at him.
Mr. Bagman bounced excitedly. "Well, shall we crack on then? Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we?"
When no one protested, he continued.
"Barty, want to do the honors?"
Mr. Crouch looked slightly startled. "Yes," he said, gathering his thoughts. "instructions. Yes… the first task…"
He moved to the center of the room. I snapped to attention, all anger set aside. I needed to focus on winning.
"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told us, the champions. I almost smiled at the thought. "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… very important… The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges."
Good. Bridgette could watch me win.
"The champions are not permitted to ask for help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament."
That one was laughable. Madame Maxime would do anything for me. All of my teachers would.
"The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first one is over. Owing to the demanding and time consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests." Mr. Crouch finished, then looked at Dumbledore for reassurance. "I think that is all, is it Albus?"
"I think so. Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts here tonight, Barty?" Dumbledore asked.
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," Mr. Crouch said, his tone final. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment… I've left young Weatherby in charge… very enthusiastic… a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…" Mr. Crouch trailed off, lost in thought.
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" asked Dumbledore.
"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" Mr. Bagman said, grinning brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting than at the office!"
"I think not, Ludo." Mr. Crouch said, looking down on the shorter man with disdain.
Madame Maxime's grip on my shoulder tightened as she directed me towards the door. Her large hand was shaking with outrage.
"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" Dumbledore asked as we walked out. Madame Maxime, a very polite and refined woman, ignored him. I trusted Dumbledore not to take offense though.
"Je suis trop énervée pour être de bonne compagnie et te raccompagner au carrosse. (I am too angry to be good company on your walk back to the carriage, Fleur-)" Madame Maxime spoke hurriedly, and I almost cut her off in my attempt to respond.
"Madame Maxime, n'y a-t-il aucun moyen de retirer ce petit garçon de la compétition? C'est terriblement injuste d'espérer- (Madame Maxime, there is no way that boy can be removed from the competition? It is outrageously unfair to expect-)"
Madame Maxime bent so her head was close to my ear. "Fleur, nous allons gagner cette compétition quoi qu'il arrive. Soit dans mon bureau à la première heure demain. Nous avons des choses à discuter. Sache seulement que je suis très fière de toi ma chère. (Fleur, we are winning this competition no matter what. Be in my office first thing tomorrow morning. We have things to discuss. Just know I am very proud of you, my dear.)"
The minute we were out of sight of the other champions and teachers, Madame Maxime let go of me and set off in another direction.
I stood there and watched her go for a second, before turning for the carriages, my mind whirling. The minute my brain had grasped onto something, another idea sent it scattering. I thought once I had been chosen the confusion would be over. It was only just beginning. I had no idea what I was feeling. Just that I was going to win. I was going to win for my parents, for Gabrielle, for Beauxbatons and Madame Maxime. For Terese, for Susanne, hell, even for Bridgette. Especially Bridgette.
So maybe it would take some research. Maybe it would take a certain… disregard for the rules against teacher help. I knew that the tournament was going to be challenging. I just hoped Professor Astor was up to the challenge of teaching me something that might be useful.
And so the tournament begins…. I'm hoping to get some angst in here. You know, inner turmoil, friend fighting, getting cozy with Fleurs flaws, we'll see how it goes. I promise I'll try to make more time for this story once I've really settled down into my new schedule. I'm not giving up on the story. I'm still pretty passionate about it. Who knows, maybe I'll have another chapter up over Christmas vacation.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot! I might be changing the title of this story cause I just don't feel like it fits… I'm thinking along the lines of Me, Myself and I. I thought it seemed appropriate. I'm also doing a bit of editing, and if Yann's up for it, translating the earlier chapters into better, non-google translate French. So change is coming, friends.
Reviewer Responses:
Marshymellow: Thank you! It amused me greatly that someone was actually worried that I wasn't okay! I'm fine, thank you, just busy, but you don't want to hear about me! Thank you for your review and being concerned about my welfare!
Thank you so much guys, read and review, if you like what you see check out some of my other stories!
-Melissa