Chapter 1 – The Carriage in the Clouds
Alicia Spinnet was positively shaking. That it was from the horrid October draft was secondary. She'd been in the toasty, comfortable Gryffindor common room with her best friend, Angelina Johnson, when her head of house, Professor McGonagall, ushered her and the rest of her house to the Entrance Hall. They were to greet the incoming Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. In the rush, she hadn't the time to retrieve her cloak, so here she stood, shivering in just her day robes as the professors scrambled the students into four neat lines just outside the front steps.
Professor Flitwick gave her a pitying glance as he rushed past. The tiny professor flicked his wand, and Alicia felt warmth surge through her body, down to her bones. She smiled gratefully at the professor, who responded in kind before running off to deal with the Weasley twins, who'd turned a handful of Slytherins' robes hot pink. Alicia stifled a snicker at the sight, catching the twins' eye with an approving grin. They bowed with exaggerated swagger even as McGonagall and Flitwick berated them, receiving exasperated resignation from the professors.
"I don't see why we have to go through all this unnecessary posturing," Angelina grumbled in front of her. "It's just a bunch of other students. Who cares?"
"Well, we have to show we're better than the Frenchies, surely?" Alicia whispered conspiratorially, and Angelina conceded with a shrug.
"Fair, anything to show up the French."
"Non, nozzing is better zan the Français," Alicia said with a poor imitation of a French accent. Angelina snickered.
"Merlin, that was horrendous."
Alicia crossed her arms. "I'd like to see you try then," she challenged.
"Is zis what ze Breetish call food?" Angelina said with an air of exaggerated haughtiness. "Een France, we would never even feed zis to ze pigs!"
"Ok, that was definitely worse," Alicia said. Angelina shook her head.
"No way, mine was so much better," the dark-skinned girl flipped her long, braided hair over her shoulder dramatically. "The bit about the food? I would bet you someone says that tonight at dinner."
"I'm too smart to take you up on that," Alicia conceded with a grin.
"Oi, stop going around saying you're smart. Someone might believe you," a third voice chirped from further down the line.
Alicia turned around to see her other best friend, Katie Bell, grinning at them. Her sandy blonde hair curled down to her shoulders, and her hazel eyes glinted with laughter. The professors had sorted them according to year, resulting in Katie being stuck with her fellow fifth years while sixth years Alicia and Angelina managed to stay together.
She prepared a retort but was interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who shushed the Gryffindors with a stern look.
Merlin, that woman was scary when she wanted to be.
Alicia snuck a rude gesture under her crossed arms when McGonagall wasn't looking. From Katie's smirk, she figured it had been received.
A hush fell over the student population that turned into a buzz of excitement. Alicia turned from her silent battle with Katie to see what everyone was whispering about. She squinted and spotted a tiny, dark blemish against the setting sun.
The spot grew larger and larger, and she heard increasingly outrageous guesses from the students around her.
"It's a bird!" exclaimed third-year Gryffindor Joshua Hawkins.
"It's an Aeroplane!" said a first-year Hufflepuff.
"It's Superman!" yelled fifth-year Ravenclaw Imani Shah.
"What in the hells is a Superman?" sneered Draco Malfoy. Alicia rolled her eyes and resisted the temptation to jinx the crown ponce of Slytherin.
"It's a giant carriage," said a girl in blue-trimmed robes that Alicia recognised as Cho Chang.
Turned out that Cho was correct, as a giant, powder blue carriage flew toward them. The carriage was pulled by giant, winged palomino horses that Alicia recognised as Abraxans. She smiled slightly. Maybe listening to Katie gush about magical creatures for hours on end was useful for something after all.
The elephant-sized stallions and the carriage hit the thud that sent tremors through the grounds and up Alicia's form. A young man dressed in powder blue robes jumped out, pulling forth a set of stairs.
Out of the carriage came the largest woman Alicia had ever laid eyes upon. She was dressed from head to toe in midnight black silk that shimmered with each step. She was covered in opulent jewellery, and Alicia was sure she could wear the large woman's opal necklace as a belt buckle. Her black shoes the size of Alicia's torso were studded with glittering jewels. The Hogwarts students applauded her, and she nodded as if it were her due.
The woman had a beaked nose and heavy-set features but moved with a grace and poise that exuded elegance.
"Ah, Madame Maxime. Welcome," Professor Dumbledore kissed her hand in greeting. It was a testament to her incredible size that the rather tall headmaster didn't even have to bend to reach her hand. "I hope your travels were comfortable?"
"Very comfortable indeed, Dumbly-dorr," Madame Maxime spoke with a deep, smooth voice. She was clearly French, leading Alicia to the conclusion that she was the Beauxbatons headmistress. "It is so good to see you. You 'ave been well?"
"In excellent form, my dear," Dumbledore patted her hand.
"Oh yes, my pupils," Maxime gestured behind her with a dismissive wave.
Alicia's attention turned to the teenagers filing out of the carriage behind their headmistress. They were dressed in pale blue robes. The robes were fancier than her Hogwarts ones, being woven out of silk, though she thought pretentious was a better descriptor. She snickered when she noticed them shivering in the Scottish cold. If she retained any doubt the students were from France, it was absolved from watching their ineptitude with the desolate autumn weather.
The Beauxbatons students marched up to them in two lines – boys and girls. Alicia felt an intense surge of dislike when she saw the sour, distasteful looks on their faces. She hoped Hogwarts would win the tournament just to wipe their smug little smirks off.
One of the girls was hauntingly beautiful. She was slender, with pale skin and silvery blonde hair that glinted in the moonlight. Her pale blue eyes surveyed the Hogwarts students with an upturned nose that belied haughty condescension. Despite finding the same expression vexing on the other French students, she was willing to forgive this one instance.
Because Alicia was very, very gay, and she thought this girl was very, very hot.
She tore her gaze from the gorgeous girl and looked at the line of boys. Her gaze was drawn to a boy with messy black hair. He was significantly shorter than his compatriots and seemed to walk separate from them. There was an invisible wall between him and his peers. The other thing that separated him from his fellow Frenchmen was that where they looked upon the castle with disdain, he stared with unabashed wonder.
Her sudden burst of jingoistic indignation was balmed by smug satisfaction as she watched him shamelessly gawk at the many ramparts and towers that jutted out of the castle.
The French students followed their headmistress past their British fellows and into the Entrance Hall. The Hogwarts students remained outside to wait for their Durmstrang counterparts.
Alicia shivered. The warming charm was beginning to wear out, and she was quickly growing tired of this welcoming party.
She was shaken out of her thoughts by another wave of gasps and whispers. Alicia drew her attention toward the lake, where a ripple formed in the water. Alicia's momentary guess that the giant squid was coming to say hello was dashed when a long wooden pole broke the water's surface.
A giant ship of the swashbuckling, pirate kind emerged from the depths of the Black Lake. The wooden boards were rotting and covered in a mossy mural of varying shades of green. Eerie, pale green light shone out of the portholes, giving the ship a spectral appearance. Rusting anchors were thrown, and the frigate moored on the edge of the lake.
Out of the ship came a single line – all boys – wearing thick brown fur coats and grim expressions.
Alicia wasn't impressed with the burly Eastern European students. The lack of pretty girls in their ranks was certainly a contributing factor.
Durmstrang's headmaster, Karkaroff, was a tall man. He wore dark robes with a thick fur coat that Alicia wished she was wearing instead. His gaze was shifty and suspicious, though he greeted Dumbledore with sycophantic enthusiasm. Dumbledore responded cordially, and Alicia was impressed by her headmaster's composure because she was uncomfortable just looking at him.
Alicia and the rest of the Hogwarts contingent followed the Durmstrang students into the Great Hall. She found her usual spot at the Gryffindor table and sat across Angelina and Katie. The latter of whom grinned at her in a manner that suggested she was due for a good ribbing.
"Someone caught your eye, 'Licia?" the fifth-year waggled her eyebrows. "A couple of those French girls…" she fanned herself, laughing.
"Shut up," Alicia said, feeling her face warm up.
"You should've seen her staring at the tall blonde one," Angelina snickered, jumping in her seat when Alicia poked her in the ribs.
The three Gryffindor chasers watched the Beauxbatons students linger near the entrance before heading en masse for the Ravenclaw table. The smaller, excitable boy was speaking rapidly to the beautiful French girl, ignoring the wide berth their peers gave them. They seemed to be arguing about something, and the boy seemed to be winning. The girl huffed petulantly and stomped her foot, which Alicia thought was rather adorable, and the boy pumped his fist.
The two split from the pack and approached the Gryffindor table. The boy was practically vibrating with excitement, and the girl followed with the resigned gait of an indulgent older sibling.
"Are these seats free?" He asked, gesturing to the empty seats next to Alicia.
She blinked. A sudden wave of unquenchable desire washed over her as the girl neared, and her brain momentarily short-circuited. She clamped down her jaw, biting so hard to avoid the sudden urge to grandstand in front of the girl that she felt the inside of her cheek bruise. The boy gave her a bashful smile and whispered something to the taller girl behind him. The feeling dulled, and Alicia wrangled control over her motor functions.
"Y-yeah. All yours," she nodded jerkily.
"I must apologise for my friend," the boy said with a surprisingly subtle French accent as he sat down next to her, opposite Katie. "She's part-veela. Sometimes her allure, it – er – slips."
The girl nodded sharply, sitting on the boy's other side. Alicia felt her brain muddle but grit her teeth and mentally recited the alphabet backwards.
"No worries," she said slowly. "She can't control it, right?"
"No, but she can reduce it," the boy's eye twitched. "Fleur, arrêtez. Even I can feel it"
Her mind cleared as the girl looked at her curiously.
"I am zorry," said Fleur with a thick French accent. "I deed not zink any of you would 'ave such a reaction."
Angelina snorted, and Katie snickered behind her palm. Alicia waved off the apology, kicking her two best friends under the table.
"'S Alright."
"You speak good English for a Frenchie," Angelina commented, spreading butter on a dinner roll. Katie hissed and slapped her on the arm, but the boy only laughed.
"I am from England," the boy said. "Mon parrain – my – er – godfather and I speak English at home."
Fleur sniffed distastefully.
"I did not get any of your names," the boy asked politely.
"Alicia Spinnet," she said, and the boy nodded. "This is Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell."
His grin widened when his eyes met Katie's. "Ciao, Bella."
Katie pinked a little, and Alicia smirked.
"That's not even French," chortled Angelina.
"Non, but it is accurate," Harry grinned. Katie's blush deepened.
"This is Fleur Delacour," the boy gestured to his friend, who nodded sharply. He rolled his eyes at her. "My name is Harry Potter. Enchanté."
The English girls gaped at the boy, while Fleur's lip curled slightly.
"You're taking the mickey," Alicia said. Her gaze flicked reflexively to his forehead. Under his fringe, she just about made out a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning.
"I wish I was," Harry laughed bitterly. Fleur looked confused, and he leaned over, and they held a whispered conversation. A faint smirk appeared on her face.
"I was explaining what it means to – ah – take the mickey. Not a common saying in France," Harry explained. "She thought you were referring to the mouse."
That sparked a round of laughter.
"Aren't you supposed to be younger than us?" Katie asked curiously. "All the other foreign students look much older than you. Surely you don't intend to compete?"
"Oh, not at all," Harry laughed. "I'm here to see Hogwarts. My parents went here, you know? They were both in Gryffindor." He gestured to their red-trimmed robes. "They were in this house, so I wanted to sit here."
"So, you're a tourist?" Alicia raised an eyebrow.
"Oui," Harry said. "Simply here to – how do you say – see the sights, non?" He winked at Katie.
"What year are you, exactly?" Katie asked neutrally, patting the pink out of her cheeks.
"Fourth year," Harry grinned, unfazed. "Et vous?" Katie looked at him, nonplussed. "And you?"
"Oh, fifth year."
"We're sixth years," Angelina said, gesturing at herself and Alicia. "I turned seventeen a few days ago, though."
"Will you be entering the tournament?" Harry cocked his head and grinned easily. "You seem like quite an accomplished witch."
Angelina laughed uproariously. "Quite the flatterer you are, Potter."
"Oui, my godfather taught me how to talk to beautiful ladies," Harry grimaced. "He was too specific with the details at times."
Angelina laughed heartily. "Yeah, I'll put my name in the ring. Can't hurt."
"Oui, Fleur will also be entering," Harry said proudly. "She's the best Beauxbatons has to offer. She'll get selected for sure."
Harry smiled at the pretty blonde, who preened under the praise. Alicia noticed a particular fondness in his smile.
It was the fondness with which she looked at her little brother during a particularly tender moment – not that she'd ever tell him that.
She thought it was sweet, and it only made her more curious about the French duo.
As Dumbledore unveiled the Goblet of Fire, she pondered: Who exactly was Harry Potter, the missing hero of British wizarding society? Why was he French? And who was Fleur Delacour, and why did the Boy-Who-Lived adore her so much?
Harry Potter grew up hearing stories about Hogwarts, so he had high expectations when he stepped off that carriage. Those expectations were subsequently blown out of the water when he saw the castle for the first time.
The mismatched grey stone; the living, moving tree; the ghosts, poltergeists, and portraits; the endless hallways and corridors; and even the moving staircases. The combination was unbelievably whimsical and stereotypically mystic. Hogwarts felt magical in a way that Beauxbatons did not.
Beauxbatons was a prestigious school with a gorgeous campus. It boasted a magnificent château in the Pyrenees mountains, with unmelting ice statues that glittered like solid diamonds and wood nymphs that serenaded students during meals. It was stunning, and it was familiar.
Hogwarts was everything Beauxbatons was not. Where Beauxbatons was elegant, polished, and refined, Hogwarts felt lived in, unorthodox, and unique. Beauxbatons felt like a museum to show off to guests. Hogwarts felt like home.
Maybe that was it. The thing about Hogwarts was that it felt like coming home.
Every corner he turned, he wondered whether his parents had been there twenty-odd years ago. When he sat at the Gryffindor table last night, he imagined them sitting beside him, talking – or arguing, as he knew they were prone to do. The smile didn't leave his face till the next morning.
Harry couldn't get enough of the castle, though he'd only been there for a day. His biggest regret last night had been returning to the carriage that doubled as his lodgings.
The beginning of his first full day at Hogwarts was a dreary mid-October, Sunday morning. The sun was hiding somewhere behind grey clouds, and a frigid breeze blew through the Scottish Highlands, keeping most of the castle's occupants indoors and within arm's length of a fireplace.
In other words, it was perfect flying weather.
Harry grabbed his broom, a Firebolt that his godfather bought him for his thirteenth birthday and ran out of the carriage.
He arrived at the Quidditch pitch and felt a smile split his face as he took in the red, yellow, blue, and green stands jutting into the sky, the house emblems and insignias painted onto the weathered wood. He imagined his mother sitting in the red section, cheering as his father scored point after point. He squinted and made out the Hogwarts crest fluttering on flags on the ends of the stands. He watched a scarlet-clad blur loop around a flag in pursuit of a flash of gold.
He'd been so entranced by the sight of the glorious Quidditch pitch that he hadn't noticed the six scarlet blurs flying around on the far end. He watched, impressed, as three scarlet chasers transitioned smoothly from a Hawkshead rush into a Thimblerig shuffle, ducking and dodging bludgers as they made a play to the penalty zone. The Chasers entered the untended scoring zone, with the largest of the three ducking to the right while feinting a shot and passing to the smallest. The smallest feinted a shot on the left goal before sinking it into the centre.
He wondered if his father might have made a similar play some twenty years prior.
The beaters cheered as they met near the scrimmage line. Their chatter died as they spotted Harry and landed a few meters ahead. He recognised the chasers at the very least – it was the three girls he'd eaten dinner with the previous night.
"Potter!" Angelina walked over with her broom slung over her shoulder. "What're you doing out here?"
"Thought I would check out the pitch. Maybe fly a little." Harry shrugged. "I can come back later if you're busy."
"Potter?" Asked a boy Harry had never met before. He was at least half a head taller than him, with bright red hair and a freckled face. "Like, Harry Potter?"
"Oui, that's me," he grinned sheepishly. The boy blinked and stared at Harry's powder blue robes.
"Harry Potter's French?" asked another redhead, who looked to be one-half of a pair of twins. The twins also looked to be the first boy's sibling, if the matching red hair and lanky builds were any indicator.
Harry laughed and nodded. He'd gotten that a lot. "Yes, and you are?"
The twins introduced themselves as Fred and George Weasley, and the first boy was their younger brother, Ron. Angelina explained that she was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain and a chaser. Her friends Alicia and Katie were also chasers, while the twins played beater. Ron was their seeker. The four house teams were holding pick-up games scattered throughout the term to keep skills sharp for when the tournament was over. The Gryffindor team was practising for said games.
"Whoa," Harry said. "Pickup games sound very fun."
Angelina grinned. "Say, are you any good on that broom?"
"Oui, I am on one of the teams at Beauxbatons as a reserve," Harry said.
"What are the chances you play keeper?" Angelina asked. He smiled apologetically.
"Seeker," he said. "I've never played keeper – too small."
Angelina looked dejected, but Ron looked – happy?
"I could play keeper," the redheaded boy piped up. "You know that's my preferred position anyway. Let Harry play seeker."
Angelina shared a look with Ron.
"I told you, Angelina," the boy said. "If we can afford to, I'd like to switch off seeker. This might be that chance – at least for the year."
"Fine," Angelina looked conflicted. "Alright, Potter, how d'you feel about possibly playing seeker for us?"
"Playing for Team Gryffindor? Just like my papa?" Harry grinned wide. "It would be my honour."
Ron looked excited at the prospect. Angelina looked conflicted but nodded. "All right, let's see what you can do."
Harry kicked off with a whoop of joy. It had been too long since he'd gone flying. He twisted, stopping and looking down at the Gryffindors, who had followed him into the air. Angelina released the snitch before counting down from five. When her fist closed, Harry barrelled away, lapping the pitch lazily. The weather at Hogwarts was colder than Beauxbatons, but the cold air removed any remaining drowsiness from his system. His mouth was set in a wide grin as he smelled the faint trace of petrichor in the wind.
A glint of gold caught his attention. The snitch buzzed about near the goalposts, and the chasers, coincidentally, were nearing it. Harry spied Katie receiving a pass and one of the Weasley twins aiming a bludger at her.
He pressed flat against his broom and shot for the goalposts. He aimed for Katie, flying past her just as the bludger rattled off one of the twins' bats. Pinched between the seeker and the bludger, Katie was forced to flip on her broom in a sloth grip with both hands. The quaffle dropped, and Alicia recovered it, but Harry didn't wait to watch. With a shit-eating grin at the chasers, Harry dove for the snitch, resurfacing with it clutched firmly in hand.
"I don't know whether to be impressed by that interference play or be mad that you nearly knocked my chaser off her broom!" Angelina flew up to him and punched him playfully on the shoulder.
"Désolé, Bella, but I would have caught you if you fell," Harry grinned, and Katie waved him off with a roll of the eyes, though her warm cheeks betrayed her attempt at nonchalance.
The rest of the practice went swimmingly, though Harry felt the Gryffindors were going easy on him to get him acclimated. Still, it was an exhausted Harry who landed on the grass.
"Bloody hell, Harry. If you're only a reserve, how good is the main roster at your school?" Ron asked.
"Eh, I think I am a little better than the main seeker," Harry ran a hand through his hair nervously. "They don't like me very much in Beauxbatons."
"Really?" Katie flew over. "You seem nice enough. If a little bit of a philanderer."
"I will take that as a compliment," Harry grinned. "Though I don't know what a phee-landeur is. Non, people don't like me because I am friends with Fleur."
"Fleur?" Alicia asked curiously. Harry suppressed a smirk.
"Oui, they do not like that she is part veela. They fear her for what she cannot control," Harry said darkly.
"Fleur? Is that the blonde bird that gets all the boys drooling?" Ron asked, blanching when Harry's glare turned on him. He threw his hands up in surrender. "I'm not judging or anything – just asking."
Harry's expression cleared, and he nodded. "Oui, that is her. They offered me a starting spot, but only if I betrayed her. I refused. She is like family."
Then, a grin replaced Harry's serious countenance. "Sorry, Angelina, but if you get selected, I will still be cheering for ma sœur. I hope you get second place, though!"
"Why, you little –" Angelina grabbed a laughing Harry into a headlock. She ruffled his hair.
"Great, my hair is messy enough as is," he grumbled. "So, did I make the cut?"
Angelina nodded and held her hand out. "Welcome to Team Gryffindor, Potter."
Harry whooped. "Wicked! As I believe the British say."
"Congrats," Ron clapped him on the back. The rest of the team followed, and he accepted Katie's congratulations with a vast smile, drawing another flush out of her.
Angelina shooed the team off to the showers before dragging them out to an early breakfast. Little talking was done as the ravenous teenagers decimated their plates of food.
As the saying goes, there's no appetite quite like a Quidditch appetite.
A/N: So this is a new one, eh? I've been sitting on this idea for a hot minute and I'm excited to finally share it with y'all. To those of you coming from my other stories: I'm curious, which story are you coming from? And how do you find this compared to some of my other works?
As always, leave a review. I do love reading them!