Fleur Delacour and the Year at Hogwarts

Fleur Delacour and the Year at Hogwarts

Chapitre Un: Bien-Heureux

--O bien-heureux qui peut passer sa vie entre les siens, franc de haine et d'envie...

Chanson, by Desportes

Some school years are better than others, of course; like my fifth year, when our Morphologie professor was replaced with Mme Arnaud, who was much better than the previous charlatan. Some years are worse; when I was twelve, my chère amie, Marie, suddenly became my rival. Most years are interesting, at least mildly so.

But my most amazing, eventful year by far was my seventh: the year I spent at Hogwarts.

I spent the summer with my family in Cannes; Maman, Papa, my sister Gabrielle, and the Marices: Tante Liane, Oncle Théodore, and Lucien, my cousin. Usually, my family travels to Guebwiller, in Alsace, to visit my Grandmère and Grandpère. All my aunts and their families (on the Ménard side) come. But not the Marices.

Tante Liane is my mother's eldest sister. She, like her sisters, looks very much like their veela mother, but she, unlike my aunts Bernadine and Rise, either had less of their mother's power, or used it less. Théodore Marice was the first and only man she has ever had a romantic interest in.

While we were on the beach one day in early August, one of Beauxbatons' snowy owls arrived, bearing a letter for me. It was earlier than the usual school letters, and as Lucien did not receive one, everyone teased me. Gabrielle said that I was "probably expelled" for nearly failing my Langues Anciennes exam. I opened it, laughing, but hoped desperately that the jokes would not be prophetic. Fortunately, they weren't.

"Maman, Papa, écoutez! Listen!

"' Dear Mlle Delacour,

"'This year, all students at or above the age of seventeen (as of 31 Octobre) are eligble to enter the Tournoi des Trois Écoles being held this year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you are of age, you are offered the chance to enter this prestigious event.

"'However, any students wishing to enter must first pass a rigorous written and magical test, which will be held on 3 Octobre. The rest of the summer and the beginning of the school year should be used to study and prepare. Only those who pass the test will be permitted to travel to Hogwarts. Students that travel to Hogwarts will attend classes with the British sixth/seventh year students.

"'Sincèrement,

Mme Olympe Maxime

Directrice de l'école de Beauxbatons'

"And here is a slip for you to sign. Maman, oh, please say I can go!"

Maman gave me a serious look. "Of course you may, Fleur. But, ma petite chère, you are going to have to study like mad and work very hard. I am sure you will not be able to enter this tournament unless you improve in several of your classes."

I heaved a gusty sigh. "Oui, Maman. But you know that I am top of my Charmes et Contrecharmes class, and I am in the advanced one. And I got 90% on my Anglais exam."

"Only on the reading and writing bits," said Lucien, grinning. "You only just passed the speaking part." I almost swiped at him, but then I remembered that I was supposed to be a mature almost seventeen year old and stopped myself. Instead, I gave him an arch look and went inside to get my textbooks.

I spent all of August, except for my birthday, studying. On the 18^th, we had a large birthday party for me, which even the Marices attended. My other Ménard aunts, Bernadine and Rise, told me in giggly whispers that they'd heard "good things about those Hogwarts boys." My tiny Tante Elise, my father'snly sister, wished me bonne chance and told me that she was sure I'd at least get to England. Her son, Michel, approached me right after.

"Horrible girl," he greeted me in a conversational tone.

"Quoi? What have I done lately?"

"The Tournoi. Being still at Beauxbatons. Lucky. I detest you, do you know?" He smiled, so that I could tell he was joking.

"Well," I shrugged, "it's all your fault, really. If you had failed some classes last year, you'd still be a seventh year--and you'd know more than everyone else, as well. You could probably have won the Tournoi."

Michel laughed. "Mea culpa? If you know what that means, Fleurette."

I gasped in mock anger. "For your information, Michel Algernon, I passed that exam by several points, and it means 'through my fault,' and it is from"--"Latin or Greek, Latin or Greek?--"Latin."

"Lucky guess." Instead of replying, I flounced away to talk to Chevalier, a Delacour cousin. He was properly respectful to me, as he was only in sixth year and would not turn seventeen until next April.

At the end of the evening, I collapsed onto my bed and stretched luxuriantly. Everyone was so supportive of me! "Maybe I have a chance," I said to no-one in particular.

Almost everyone was supportive of me. "Then you should probably study, Fleurette," said Michel from my doorway. I gave up my pretensions of maturity and threw a satin pillow at him.