Muggles Call it Fate
Fleur was never shy about asking questions. Any question. If you asked you are more likely to receive what you desired, for if you opened your mouth and simply asked. People could carry out your wishes; no one was going to guess what you want all day long. And for Fleur, whatever she asked, she got, from anyone. Well, almost anyone. For instance, she remember the time when she was about ten, she asked her mother Apolline a rather simple question at the Delacour’s annual family gathering.
Fleur sat in the finely crafted velvet armchair overlooking the vast ballroom. Her back straight and her clear eyes sparkled with the essence of light itself. Compared to her eyes the diamond chandelier that adorned the outstretched ceilings of the family’s manor was in fact, cheap. A vivid smile painted on Fleur’s face greeted her distant relatives and other guests. For the ten year old, she was taught that manners mattered. And to receive the privilege and respect a pureblooded wizard deserved, one must first act like a respectable person.
So she sat there gracefully, glowing in the dazzling moment. She did not move, even if her back had ached, she simply smiled.
She remembered being admired and appraised by her guests.
“My! Isn’t she lovely,” Said one of her guests. She couldn’t tell who had said it, for there were too many people in the vast ballroom, and besides the bent light of the chandelier illuminated the whole room with the side effects of being rather blinding. Fleur’s normally moist eyes were now sheathed with a layer of pre-mature tears.
“Not only beauty but I’ve heard her parents’ are sending her to Beauxbatons.”
“Oh my, the most prestigious wizarding school in all of France,”
“It’s the blood in the veins, and Apolline looks like she hasn’t aged one bit. And her daughter has grown up looking just as striking as her mother.” appraised another. “Must be the Veela blood,” came the jealousy drenched whisper at the end of her sentence.
“Better lock the doors at night, or suitors will rush right in,” Replied the first.
“Heheh, not if they knock down the door first.”
While all these appraisals were entertaining for Fleur’s mother, who pretended it was nothing and shrugged them off with modesty, the girl herself, Fleur was feeling rather concerned with the question in mind. Even with the party going on, her mind was rather blanked out in her own little world. This question had floated in her head for a few days now, and she did try to figure it out on her own.
But there is only so much a ten year old could do. Sure she could’ve searched in her Father’s vast library but she didn’t know where to look exactly and the library was, in her father’s own words. “Off limits,” until she had come of age to explore the extended contents of his collections, and the book shelf in her room was filled with books that provided no answers. She had even tried to ask the house elves but they all shrugged off with a certain peculiarity in their tone. So here she was, thinking, who will gift her with a satisfactory answer.
And her mother, well. Apolline was rather busy hosting the party and taking care of her new born sister Gabrielle, who was now sleeping soundly in the nursery. And that was what puzzled Fleur in the first place.
“Mother, where do baby Veelas come from?” She asked Apolline while tugging at her mother’s dress for some desperately needed maternal attention.
Apolline smiled at the person she was talking to gracefully and covered up for her embarrassment with a, “Kids you know how they are, more wine?” she insisted to her guest. Who surprisingly followed her lead and nodded. Apolline called the house elf to pour generously for her guest, while she turned to Fleur, who was still standing there staring at her mother, searching for an answer. Apolline tried not to look annoyed, but her features were telling the direct opposites.
“Fleur, what did mommy tell you to do, when you see mommy is busy entertaining a guest?”
Fleur noticed the tone of her mother’s voice and looked down. “Don’t interrupt unless you have something nice to say, if not go read a book...” She replied in a meek voice.
“Go read then.”
“But Mother I’ve finished all the books you and Father bought me.” Fleur dared to say with pride this time. Fleur looked at her mother with intense sincerity. “And I don’t want to play with dolls… they are so boring, they don’t move unless I tell them to. I want someone I can talk to…”
“The whole shelf?!” Apolline sounded appalled. But relaxed her features and calmed down as she remembered her social situation. She looked to the side tables were currently occupied with stocks of wrapped gifts. “Aha,” Apolline said as she took out her wand and casted a spell. A wrapped gift box flew to her like an owl to its owner.
“There,” She handed Fleur the gift box and immediately shifted her attention back on her guests.
Fleur trusted her mother’s judgements or intuitions, or whatever it was, more than ever. That was partly why she was now up in her cosy Grande bedroom. She sat on her bed as she impatiently scratched off the wraps around the book. After layers of multicoloured paper, she found her self staring at an enchanted book. However to her dismay, the book had no titles at all. It was simply a thick book with a gold plating cover that bounded the hundreds of pages together with a locking belt. It appeared mysteriously ancient and weighed rather heavy too.
But as amusing as this book’s cover was, it wasn’t thrilling enough to tame the girl’s hunger for excitement.
Fleur turned the heavy book on the side and flipped to the first page of the book hoping to find a table of content of all the stories it promised. There had to be one, the book is at least five hundred of pages. If there wasn’t at least an introduction how was anyone supposed navigate this? But the first page was blank. Fleur flipped to the second then the third page.
All blank.
“What is this?!”
All blank.
Infuriated, Fleur kicked the heavy book onto the floor.
Thump…
“Humph,” stared at her ceiling. The spirals of the ceiling mimicked that of the sky she could see the distant stars twinkling at her. It calmed Fleur to the point of falling half asleep.
She sighed.
She had hoped the book would entertain her, take her on a peculiar adventure deep into the forest of magic. Or simply entertain her to make her happy. Was that too much to ask? She felt rather sad for herself; she could still hear endless laughter and chattering in the ballroom below. It was a funny feeling. The loneliness she felt when she was in a group of people that adored her like a precious gem. All those people were spectators, she felt like a ballerina on an empty stage. While all looked and voiced their appreciations, none had actually taken the time to known how she felt inside.
Her mother had too tried introducing Fleur to people her own age. But all her previous friendships had been at the conveniences of her parents. All of her friends were of pureblooded heritage, of good families. Friendships only were only meant to cement ties, nothing more. In return, Fleur’s parents enjoyed themselves with the luxury of Apparating to somewhere exotic while she was left at home with a supposed friend and of course the nanny, who made sure the kids didn’t set the mansion on fire, literally.
But from what Fleur had observed, the girls indulge themselves in dolls, and tales were a prince would come and take the princess away to his castle and they would marry and live happily ever after. Those stories made Fleur yawn, it always ended the same way. Just thinking about it made her sleepy.
She closed her eyes and wished for a friend, perhaps even a prince, someone who could release her from her world of ennui.
Thump…
“Eh?”
She turned her head and saw the book that now lay on the floor was flipped open again, to the very first page. Interested, Fleur hopped down from her bed, and watched the pages before her glow with a golden radiance. The milky white pages seemed to be hiding something beneath its now liquid like surface. She brushed her fingers over the pages, and found herself looking at the sky then the clouds. Finally the clouds parted as the page cleared up.
Fleur wasn’t really sure what she was seeing now, but it was square and the fading red paint chipped at the bottom, and was roughly covered up with some cheap curtains. A thick layer of wool carpet was on the floor beside the crackling fireplace. It looked like that of a living room. No it couldn’t be, the room was far too small, how can it accommodate a person in her position? Then she remembered what her mother had told her, not all are fortunate to have what they, the Delacour’s possessed so be careful of who you trust.
She stared intently at the page waiting for something to happen. To her dismay, the book failed to surprise her. The view extended on the room and drifted from one corner of the room to another. Fleur was about to give up and close the book once and for all before a girl ran into the living room with a book, thinner than the one she was reading. Nevertheless when the girl plopped down before the fireplace, a ‘Thump’ was heard.
Fleur wasn’t sure who this girl was or how she got there. But she was familiar with the property of magic and enchanted items. Sometimes they can make you see things in the past and in the future, sometimes in the present or an illusion. Various entertaining things magic can do.
Illusion or not, Fleur soon found herself amused by the girl. This girl was so different from her, in every aspect. The girl in the projection was a muggle, or at least born a muggle, Fleur was sure; because she had never knew of a wizarding family that would allow their children to dress so silly.
“Where are your robes? Silly girl…” Fleur found herself thinking with a hint of arrogance.
Then there is the untamed chocolate brown hair of hers, bushy and unconfined, compared to Fleur’s perfect silver hair which was now held up in a loose bun. It made her look like a wild duckling. But, she was not ugly from what Fleur could tell, just different from the typical high class French girls Fleur saw day in day out. And the way she was hunching as she read her book; her mind totally absorbed in it was rather, unlady like…cute.
Fleur sighed and wished there was a way to talk to the amusing muggle girl in the projection. She thought as another person came into the projected images.
An apron wearing woman entered, Fleur would normally assume her to be the maid, but she looked like the girl’s mother.
“What are you reading?” The woman asked in a language foreign to Fleur, but surprisingly it seemed the book translated for her so it felt like the woman was speaking in fluent French.
“A fairy tale book,” Her daughter answered.
Fairy tale…how nice, Fleur thought, even though she lived in a fairy tale like mansion herself. She did not believe in fairy tales. They were worse than the prince and princess stories, merely lies told by her mother to put her to sleep. In fact she had the slightest loath towards stories that can never come true. Because an ugly duckling can’t turn into a swan, a swan was born beautiful.
That turned her attention back to the Muggle girl. Yes. She was born Muggle, so there was no way she could be a witch. Pity…
“Well Hermione it’s dinner time.” The mother told her softly as she gently took Hermione by the hand and started to drag her away from her reading.
“But Mum I was just at the most exciting part! I want to know what happened to the Veela girl! She was so lonely in her castle; I want to know if her prince ever came.”
The mentioning of Veela sparked up Fleur’s interest. What exactly was this girl reading?
“Come on Hermione,” said the girl’s mother as she walked into the kitchen to take off her apron. Then appeared again a few seconds later without it.
“But, at the end the Veela girl…”
“Well the ending isn’t going to change if you eat dinner now is it.” Hermione’s mother dragged her daughter away, but the girl protested by stubbornly hanging onto the book.
“Nooo… Don’t drag her away you muggle woman!” Fleur stressed over in her mind.
Clattering sounds of forks and spoons could be heard, followed by the voices of three people chattering away as they ate their supper.
“Mummy,”
“Yes Darling?”
“Where do Veela babies come from?”
“I would like to know too!” Thought Fleur, “Wait…did she just asked the same question as I?”
Fleur was shocked but she kept quiet and listened, hoping to find the answer.
“It is just a book honey, whatever you said V…whatever doesn’t exist.” A male voice chuckled, utterly dismissing the idea.
“Hey! We do too exist! You dumb muggle!” Fleur yelled into the book. Then clasped her hands over her mouth, she shouldn’t have done that. But with any luck, these are just normal people and they couldn’t have heard her.
A few seconds later the girl spoke up again.
“WOW!”
“What Hermione?” The male voice asked.
“The book just spoke to me!”
“Silly girl, books don’t talk, and neither do they speak to little girls. Hermione you are reading too much into it dear. Magic only happens in fairy tales,” The mother replied.
“But it did!! It told me something I couldn’t understand…I think it said something in a magical form of French.”
Silence.
Before the room with filled with outrageously loud laughter,
The book before Fleur snapped shut, as a light sent Fleur flying; luckily she landed on the softest part of her bed.
Fading laughter could be heard then nothing more.
The book then faded back into its original colours. “Noo! What’s wrong with you?” Fleur shook the book, but it did not respond. Something had interrupted the magic, maybe a hex or a protection spell of some sort.
“’Ermione.” She whispered onto cover of the book.
Soon there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,”
“Fleur, there you are.” Lord Delacour stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the room for something. “Aha!” He said as his eyes fell on the book. “Good thing I found it before anyone could read it. Your mother told me she gave you this book by mistake,” Her father looked at her suspiciously.
“I trust nothing was inside?”
“Nope.” Fleur replied as the elder Delacour walked out with the book in hand. She wondered what the book was really about and what it did. But then again it was no use now. Her father will probably lock the book up in his secretive collections. She sighed and crawled under her enchanted comforters.
“’Ermione, where are you?” Fleur whispered.
Hoping in dream that the girl had heard her and replied somehow…
Yet little did Fleur know somewhere not that far across the English Channel a girl of seven heard her name called out from a fairy tale book. And to make things only weirder, her name was spoken out in exquisite French.
***
Seven years has passed and things haven’t really changed much at all. Except now Fleur was no longer that girl who waited up beside a book for her imaginary friend to show up and amuse her. Age had carved her into an elegantly poised young woman with burning ambitions for success. She didn’t care much for those who had fallen to her charms, it was simply their fault. And as for her, Fleur Delacour, whatever she wanted. She got.
It was that simple.
However, even after those years she never really got an answer for that embarrassing question she asked her mother at the party. She had learned the question she had asked is of a rather embarrassing matter. For… it was rather a delicate topic to discuss and…
The question just hung there never quite answered.
Fleur pushed that thought away. She could not think of the matters now and get carried away before such an important event. The Triwizard tournament was on hand could be the most important thing of her life.
She had better things to do now; she was now the pride and joy of the Beauxbatons academy of magic. Everyone looked up to her, even the headmistress herself trusted Fleur enough to let her represent the academy in the TriWizard Tournament.
But somethings never change.
“I’m sure you’ll out do all your competitions.” The headmistress gave her a reassuring smile.
“It’s not that…” Fleur replied, something about this tournament feels odd, but in a good way.
“What is wrong? Tell me Fleur, are you feeling unwell?”
“No, I’m fine it’s just I’m a bit nervous about the tournament that’s all.” Fleur pin pointed. Still that doesn’t seem to be it.
“Where exactly is this school…er, Hogwarts anyways?”
“Hogwarts, a Wizarding school located in Britain,” replied Olympe Maxime.
“Do they have a large library?”
“Indeed, they have the large collection of magical books, even a restricted section too,” the half giant paused, “But nothing like our prestigious Beauxbatons you know. They have the worse fashion sense ever, who would’ve thought mixing all those ridiculous colours together, what are they? Rainbows? It is terrible…” Her headmistress rambled on; over zealous about everything at Beauxtons was better than Hogwarts.
Fleur nodded as another question was answered, and that was all she needed to know for now. She looked outside the tinted windows of the carriage as sunbathed clouds parted before her way. Fleur had an unexplainable pleasant feeling about this trip. She knew no more than that, something deep from within warmed her and told her something incomprehensible at the moment. A faint smile appeared on her lips as the carriage guided her closer to whatever fate had to offer.
To be continued? @.@