X. ENCHANTÉ
There were definitely new dishes that Sirona had never seen prepared at Hogwarts, but she mostly stuck to the things that she knew as she piled food onto her golden plate. Beside her, Caroline was back to bothering the poor boy they were sitting next to.
"My name's Caroline Becker," she started, and Sirona looked over to see that her friend had produced a quill and paper seemingly out of thin air. "I help write the school paper. If I could bother you for a quick interview — it won't take very long at all — it would be greatly appreciated."
"Caroline!" Sirona whispered harshly. "Leave the poor boy alone and let him eat his dinner in peace!" Sirona looked up at Roger, expecting him to say something, but he was still watching the girl from before, who'd now removed the muffler to reveal long, silvery-blonde hair. Sirona reared back to kick him under the table, but a voice addressed Caroline.
"Excuse me, will zair be a lot of people who are reading zis paper?"
The voice did not belong to the boy but to the girl on his other side, whose silky red hair was braided into a long plait that hung over her right shoulder, contrasting sharply with her pale blue robes. Sirona thought she might have been mistaken, but she could have sworn that the blond Beauxbâtons boy rolled his eyes at the girl's question.
"Well, everyone who reads the paper will see it," Caroline said truthfully, avoiding the lie she would have been telling if she had simply told the girl, "Yes."
"Zen, you can be interviewing me," the girl told Caroline. "After all, I will be ze one whose is competing in zis tournament surely."
After this, she quickly changed her tone to address the boy in French, and Sirona could tell that she was telling him to move out of Caroline's way as she patted the spot beside her. Caroline, who was elated that someone actually wanted to be interviewed, ignored the girl's rude behaviour towards her classmate and quickly switched seats with the boy. Sirona looked over at him with an apologetic look as he was forced to sit beside her.
"I'm sorry," she said. "She just gets excited sometimes."
"It is all right," he replied. "Amélie likes to be ze centre of attention, but I 'ighly doubt she will be ze Beauxbâtons champion."
Sirona let out a small chuckle and looked back down at her food.
"My name is Auguste Beaumont," the boy continued right as Sirona had just filled her mouth with shepherd's pie. She tried to quickly swallow the food and ending up choking a bit, turning away from the boy as she coughed. She heard Roger, who had apparently stopped staring at the pretty French girl, sniggering from across the table, and she flung out her leg, her shoe making harsh contact with his shin.
"I'm Sirona. Sirona Solan-Bordeaux," she finally said once she'd gotten a hold of herself.
"Bordeaux?" Auguste repeated. "Any relation to ze family of Monsieur Osmont Bordeaux?"
Sirona's eyes widened just a fraction at the name. She had, in fact, heard the name before, mainly from her mother whenever she had one too many drinks and in a contemptuous manner. Sirona knew that her grandfather was a well-respected wizard. According to her mother, Osmont Bordeaux had graduated top of his class at Beauxbâtons and secured a high-paying job with the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France. Apparently, the whole Bordeaux family were considered pillars of the wizarding community in France and had been for centuries, and Osmont had only been the latest in a long line of wizards from the family that achieved much in life. And according to Cybele Bordeaux, he had been a terrible father.
Auguste must have taken Sirona's silence on the subject as a "no" because he was now saying, "Zat was a ridiculous question. 'ow can I expect you to know—"
"Actually, I am related to him," Sirona said without thinking, and she mentally cursed herself when she saw the boy's eyes light up. She should have just kept her mouth shut and pretended that she didn't know who the boy was talking about.
"He's my grandfather," she continued in a softer voice once she realised the boy was expecting more. Auguste seemed surprised at this information.
"I was unaware zat Monsieur Bordeaux's son 'ad any children."
"Yes, well, that's because I'm his daughter's child," she said.
"Oh, forgive me," Auguste said, "I 'ave forgotten zat 'e 'ad a daughter as well. It was Celeste, yes?"
"Cybele," Sirona corrected.
Auguste didn't quite seem to understand just how estranged Sirona's mother and grandfather were from each other, so he continued to talk excitedly about the man.
". . . 'e gave a speech at ze school last year, and it was magnificent. 'e is a very smart man, very powerful. You 'ave to tell me what 'e is like."
"I wouldn't know," she said, feeling a bit dejected. "I've never actually met him."
Auguste's blue eyes went wide at her answer as he seemed to piece together that maybe the reason he'd forgotten of Cybele Bordeaux's existence was because she was no longer in her family's good graces.
"Oh, I am sorry. I should not 'ave been asking. It is none of my business."
Auguste looked down at his plate, which was still empty of any food as he had not yet put anything on it. Across the table, Roger avoided Sirona's gaze, busying himself with his mashed potatoes. Sirona frowned, immediately wanting to change the mood she'd brought to the table. She forced a beatific smile onto her face.
"It's all right," she assured Auguste. "You just probably know more about him than I do. Perhaps you could tell me about him sometime."
Auguste smiled as he started to put food onto his plate.
"Who is that?" Roger finally spoke up once he sensed the friendlier tone, asking Auguste about the girl with the silvery-blonde hair. Auguste followed Roger's gaze to the girl and gave a small chuckle.
"Zat would be, 'ow you would say, 'out of your league,'" he said, and Sirona nearly choked a second time as she held back laughter, trying to swallow her pumpkin juice. Roger finally returned her kick from earlier, but she was still grinning as she rubbed her sore shin. Auguste laughed.
"Zat is Fleur Delacour," he finally said. "'er grandmuzzer is a veela, which is why she is so—"
"Beautiful," Roger finished for Auguste in a dreamy voice, and Sirona made a faux gagging noise.
"The boy that is currently operating at five percent brain power, is my friend, Roger Davies," Sirona told Auguste. "He isn't normally this idiotic."
"It is okay. We are all used to ze attention zat Fleur attracts. 'owever, your friend should know zat she is not as — alluring on ze inside," he replied. "She can be very difficult to please and is razzer cold in my opinion."
Sirona looked back over at the girl, who was now walking over to the Gryffindor table for some reason that Sirona didn't quite care about. She turned her attention back to Auguste.
"So, I've got to ask, what's it like at Beauxbâtons? I've heard my mother talk about it once or twice, but she's never really gone into too much detail."
As the meal progressed, Auguste indulged Sirona in tales of the Beauxbâtons Academy of Magic and a bit of its history. She had to admit that the grounds alone sounded beautiful enough to make a girl in a cheesy romance novel swoon. Though, some parts of the boy's story sounded far too extravagant and unnecessary for a school. After all, who needed wood nymphs to serenade them at mealtimes?
"You hear that, Rodge? They've got a fountain with healing properties. All we get is a tree that can kill you if you stand too close to it," she said. Roger nodded, but Sirona could tell that he wasn't paying attention. She rolled her eyes, giving up on trying to include him in the conversation as the second course arrived on the table.
Sirona eyed all of the desserts, not knowing which one to try first. Auguste seemed delighted when he spotted a brioche type cake. He quickly cut himself a piece, and upon noticing that Sirona had not yet decided on a dessert, he cut her a piece as well. He placed the slice of cake on Sirona's plate.
"You 'ave to try zis. It is delicious. My muzzer always makes tarte tropézienne for me whenever I return 'ome from ze academy," he told her.
As Sirona bit into the cream-filled pastry cake — Auguste had been correct; it was quite delicious — her eyes looked up at the staff table to see that two more people had joined them all in the Great Hall: Bartemius Crouch and Ludo Bagman. She frowned at the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Auguste noticed the frown.
"You are not a fan of sweets?" he asked, and Sirona shook her head fervently.
"Oh, no, this is quite delicious; thank you, you were right. I'm just not overly fond of Mr. Bagman at the present moment," she said, motioning to where Bagman was sitting at the staff table, laughing and making conversation as though he hadn't a care in the world.
After everyone had had their fill, Dumbledore finally stood and introduced Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman as the school caretaker brought in a giant, ornate-looking wooden chest. Sirona could see Caroline from the other side of Auguste; she was turned sideways in her seat, listening intently to Dumbledore as he spoke about the tournament. As it had turned out, she was rather serious about entering in the competition, which worried Sirona and Roger. Sirona turned her attention back to Dumbledore.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks, and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Sirona lifted in her seat to get a better look as the headmaster took out his wand and tapped the wooden chest three times. The lid opened slowly, creaking as though this was the first time it had been opened in years. Dumbledore reached into the chest and pulled out a wooden cup that would have been extraordinarily unremarkable if it had not been alight with blue-white flames. Sirona watched the fire dance as Dumbledore set the cup atop the now closed chest.
Dumbledore continued to talk, telling them that the goblet would be put in the entrance hall and that champions had twenty-four hours to submit their names to the goblet. He also mentioned that he would be drawing an Age Line around the goblet, and Sirona peered across the room at the Weasley twins, who both had identical mischievous smiles on their faces.
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all," Dumbledore said.
Sirona glanced back over at Caroline, who did not seemed fazed by this last comment. In fact, she only looked more determined as they all rose from their seats. Sirona said her goodbyes to Auguste and quickly followed after Caroline, Roger lagging behind to catch better glimpses of Fleur Delacour.
"Hey, Care," Sirona said, tugging on her friend's robes to slow her down as they left the Great Hall. "You heard, Dumbledore, right? If you're chosen, you've got to go through with it."
"Well, of course, I'm not an idiot," Caroline said. "What are you implying?"
"Nothing, it's just — I don't care how many safety measures they've put in place, the Triwizard Tournament has a long history of being very dangerous and lethal. I'm just worried about you."
Caroline smiled, turning to her friend and cupping her hands around Sirona's cheeks.
"Stop worrying about me," she said. "I'm going to be fine. I'm not afraid of anything."
"I know," Sirona murmured. as Caroline released her. "That's what scares me."
The next day was Saturday, and while Sirona should have been sleeping in like she wanted, Caroline had forced her awake just before the sun had started to rise. Sirona, annoyed at having been up so early, pressed her wand to her silver bracelet, and when she and Caroline made it down to the common room, Roger was waiting there, a little disgruntled at having been woken up.
"I don't understand why we have to be awake to watch you throw your name into a cup," Roger complained as they made their way out of the common room. Sirona frowned and thumped him on the back of his head.
"It's called moral support, you wanker," she said at the same time that Caroline said, "Rona's the one who woke you."
At Caroline's words, Roger whipped his head around to glare back at Sirona from over his shoulder as they continued their trek. She stuck her tongue out at him.
"It's mandatory moral support," she clarified.
The friends weren't the only ones who'd gotten up early; when they arrived, all of the Durmstrang students were there with their headmaster, putting their names in the goblet one by one. The headmaster's eyes seemed to gleam when it came to be Krum's turn.
"You realise that if you are chosen as the Hogwarts champion, you'll get to compete against Viktor Krum," Roger told Caroline, who only rolled her eyes.
"Oh please, you don't know that he's going to be chosen," she said, eyeing one of the other Durmstrang boys intently, giving him a smile and a small wave when he noticed her. The boy seemed to stand up a little taller, straightening his robes as he smiled as well, giving her a friendly head nod in return.
"He's Viktor Krum," Roger said. "Of course he'll be chosen!"
"Keep it up, Rodge, and we'll have to put a muzzle on you," Sirona quipped in a warning tone; he'd talked their ears off about Krum the previous night after the feast was over (once he'd stopped fawning over the veela-girl, of course), and Sirona was getting quite tired of hearing the Bulgarian Seeker's name.
They all waited for the Durmstrang students to clear out before Caroline pulled a slip of parchment out of her pocket, clutching it in both hands. Sirona looked down at the parchment that sported her friend's curling handwriting: Caroline Becker — Hogwarts. Caroline looked to her friends.
"Wish me luck?"
"Good luck," both Roger and Sirona said, and Caroline turned on her heel, walked over Dumbledore's Age Line and chucked her parchment into the goblet. The flames turned red and the cup emitted sparks as she did before turning back to the calm blue-white colour.
The three Ravenclaws hung around the entrance hall, wanting to see who else would be putting their names in. Other people slowly gathered in the hall as well, and finally, the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan came running down the stairs excitedly. Sirona could hear them whispering to their brother Ron, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, who stood a few people in front of her.
"Done it," Fred was saying. "Just taken it."
"One drop each," George said. "We only need to be a few months older."
"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," Lee added happily.
As Hermione protested, Fred caught sight of Sirona over his shoulder. He gave her a cheeky smirk and quickly winked at her before turning to George and Lee.
"Ready?" he asked them. "C'mon then — I'll go first —"
Sirona rolled her eyes at him but watched curiously as he stepped over the golden Age Line. Sirona's brow shot up in mild surprise because for a moment, she thought they'd managed to fool the charm. Clearly, George thought this as well because he rushed right in after his brother. Unfortunately, they had not, in fact, fooled the Age Line, and they were promptly tossed across the room like ragdolls. Sirona gasped, not thinking twice as she rushed over to where they had landed.
"Are you all ri—"
Sirona stopped midsentence because as she approached the twins, she saw that they had both sprouted long white beards. She immediately let out a loud laugh, followed suit by most of the students in the entrance hall, including the twins themselves.
"I did warn you," came Dumbledore's voice; though, he sounded amused rather than angry. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. . . ."
"You're both idiots," Sirona said, holding out a hand to help Fred to his feet.
"I reckon I'm still incredibly good-looking," Fred said with a grin as he stood. "Think I might keep it for the ball."
"I will shave it off while you sleep," she threatened, "and I will not be gentle about it."
"Kinky," he teased, causing Sirona's cheeks to go slightly pink as she rolled her eyes. She pushed the boy away from her and watched as he and George left for the hospital wing with Lee trailing after them, still laughing heartily.
Sirona and her friends hung around for a bit longer. After Angelina Johnson put in her name, they all decided to finally enter the Great Hall to enjoy their breakfast. Sirona looked around at the carved pumpkins and the cloud of bats that fluttered above them in the enchanted ceiling. Halloween had always been a favourite of hers. She, Roger and Caroline all speculated on what the three tasks were going to be as they ate, each of them trying to outdo each other with the ridiculousness of their guesses.
Once their plates were left empty, they left the entrance hall just in time to see the Beauxbâtons students putting their names in the goblet. When Auguste went up to the goblet, Sirona smiled and waved at him, shooting him a quick thumbs up in support. He gave her a smile, but did not get to talk to her because once the last Beauxbâtons student had entered their name, their headmistress ushered them all back out of the castle. Roger was staring at Fleur Delacour once again as he said,
"I'm going to see where they're staying," he said, and without another word, he walked after the foreign students.
"You do realise you're being creepy, right, Rodge?" Caroline said, following after him. Sirona rolled her eyes, following at a more languid pace.
"So, I see you've made a friend."
Sirona turned to see that Fred and George were now back to being beardless as they came down the stairs, having obviously seen her being friendly with Auguste.
"He's friendly enough," she replied to George. "Though, Roger's got his eye on the pretty girl. Auguste says she's part veela, so that explains it."
"Auguste?" Lee teased. "Already on a first name basis, are we?"
Sirona shook her head, sighing.
"It's just what he told me to call him," she said. It was true; she had called him Beaumont during their conversation the previous night, and he had promptly told her to call him Auguste. It felt rude to ignore his wishes.
"Cosying up to the French boys," George continued to tease. "Wonder what Mummy Bordeaux would think. Didn't she run screaming from the place?"
"Who's cosying up with whom?" she asked. "I've only talked to him once."
"Auguste," Lee repeated once more. "Isn't that like the French version of Augustus? So, are all the Bordeaux women attracted to men with variations of that name or . . . ?"
Sirona swatted at Lee, but he dodged her, and she turned to Fred, who was being uncharacteristically quiet.
"Well?" she asked. Fred raised a brow.
"Yes?"
"Don't you have some smart remark to add? It's not like you to not take the piss out of me when these two are."
Fred chuckled.
"Perhaps I just have so many witty remarks to make that I can't properly choose which one to say," he told her.
"Quite the pretty boy, isn't he," Lee continued, standing safely behind George now.
"Very pretty," George agreed. "If you end up together, you'll have to do better about your appearance."
"No more ponytails, I'm afraid," Lee said. "You're going to have to work harder than that."
Sirona pulled her wand from her pocket and gave it a quick flick. Lee jumped into the air with a howl of pain as he rubbed his backside, having been pinched there by some invisible force.
"Are you quite finished?" she asked him, eyebrows raised in an amused look.
"That's assault, that is," Lee said, pointing at her accusingly from over George's shoulder, and Sirona flipped up the middle finger of her left hand at him, a playful smile on her face as George and Lee started walking towards the Great Hall. Fred lingered behind.
"Join us for breakfast?" he asked.
"Already ate," she informed him. "Though, I could sit a while and wait for Caroline to drag Roger back to the castle."
Sirona walked into the Great Hall with Fred, walking towards the Gryffindor table.
"So, any plans on how to deal with Bagman yet?" she asked him.
"Personally, I'd like to just hex him, but I know that won't solve anything. George thinks we should try to corner him, get him to talk to us," Fred told her as they sat down.
"Well, at least he's close by," Sirona said. "I would reckon he's at least staying in Hogsmeade if he's on the judges' panel."
"Ugh, again with the Bagman talk? It's all these two ever want to talk about," Lee complained to Sirona.
"Well, you'd be sore about it too if it were your money," George mumbled. Lee rolled his eyes and turned to Sirona.
"You know, now that I think about it, you could probably be useful," he said, giving her an appraising sort of look. "How good is your French?"
"If you're looking for a translator to help you flirt with the French girls, I'm not for hire. Interesting tactic though," she mused, "annoying me before asking for a favour."
"Fred annoys you all the time, and you always do whatever he asks," Lee pouted.
"I don't do everything he asks of me," she denied.
"Besides, mate, I'm just more charming than you," Fred said as he smeared jam over a piece of toast, flashing Sirona a grin as he did so. Lee threw a small bit of bacon at Fred.
"Besides, Fred normally makes it worth my while," Sirona said. "What've you got to offer?"
"Probably not whatever Fred's 'offering,'" George murmured to Lee in a suggestive manner, a mischievous gleam in his eye. Lee laughed, and Fred flung a bit of his roasted tomato at George at the same time that Sirona aimed a kick at Lee under the table.
Sirona was about to tell them both to grow up, but Fred spoke instead.
"Doubt Lee could offer that kind of assistance to any girl. Well, not that would be worthwhile anyway," he said, addressing Sirona but speaking loud enough to be heard by the two Gryffindors across the table. As he said this last part, Fred stuck out his pinkie and wiggled it a bit, suggesting not so nice things about a certain appendage of his friend's body.
It was Lee's turn to throw food across the table; however, his spoon went with it. Luckily, Fred had been prepared for retaliation and dodged it. Sirona and George howled with laughter as Lee heatedly denied the claim.
"Is that why Johnson refused to ever go out with you, Lee?" Sirona teased, and he reached across the table to flick her on the forehead, which she allowed because she knew the teasing on her part was rather mean and uncalled for; though, she kept a smile on her face.
"Ah, I'm over Angelina anyhow," Lee said, grabbing another spoon to resume eating his breakfast with. "Actually, the one who fancies her now i— Ouch! What was that for?!"
Sirona would have been more concerned about why George was punching Lee in the arm if she hadn't heard Caroline's voice. Fred and Sirona both turned their attention to Caroline as she pulled Roger along behind her, berating him for something that Sirona was not privy to. No doubt, he had been acting like an idiot if the veela girl had been around.
"You!" she said suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at Sirona. "You left me alone with this so you could come eat a second breakfast? Unbelievable. I will so be bringing this up when we're deciding on our annual end-of-term Best Friend Awards!"
"Oh, please, those are rigged," Fred said. "I've not won a single one."
"That's because it's only for the three of us, you moron," Roger said, seemingly having had the dreamy look wiped from his face from Fred's voice.
"Well, that's just unfair," George quipped from across the table.
"Fred's right, though," Sirona said. "They are rigged. We always all win the same amount as each other every year." This was due largely in part because the awards were made up on the spot by the three friends after they had had maybe a little bit too much to drink.
"Well, fine. We'll have our own friend awards," Lee declared. "And you won't be winning any," he told Sirona in a matter-of-fact voice.
"Oh, please," she said, flashing them a smile as she stood from the table to leave with Caroline and Roger, "what would any of you do without me?"