It was his own headmistress that had read off his name, or else he knew one of the other two would have butchered it to the point that he didnât even recognize it. In fact, Dieudonne almost didnât even react at all when his name was called. His English was poor- he only knew select words and phrases- and most of the proceedings had been done in English, although they were at his own academy of magic. It was ridiculous, in his opinion, that they insisted on doing everything in English primarily, claiming it was the only shared language between the three schools. âShared my ass,â Dieudonne had told his friends, âIf it was shared, youâd think Iâd speak it.â Of course, most of his friends did speak English, but none of them had let that hinder their laughter at his joke.
His best friend in particular had been the one keeping him up to date on what was going on for the tournament, and also the one who had convinced him to put his name into the goblet. Of course, it hadnât taken much convincing. The only thing that had been holding him back was that the proceedings were primarily in English, and he was afraid that if he were chosen, he would miss something important and have a disadvantage. His friends had eagerly talked him out of that, and in his name went, just to be spat back out again when it came time to choose the candidates. Dieudonne wasnât ready for that in the least. After the initial shock, though, his friends all patted his back and ushered him forward to meet the other contenders. Although Dieudonne wasnât the best at school, and everyone knew it, he was loved by almost the entire academy save a select few. He just had that kind of personality, really. He loved everybody, and everybody loved him in return.
He knew that his usual charms would not be working on the other two competitors though. Not only would it not work because they certainly had their guard up, knowing that they were all supposed to hate one another, but he couldnât use his boyish charms because he just, well, couldnât speak their language. When the female from Durmstrang- what was her name again?- began talking, it all washed right over Dieudonneâs head. It was only a brief, split second wondering if either of them spoke French before he replied in his first language, âIâm disgusted that weâre in France and not one person has bothered speaking French, besides that quick briefing that was translated for me. Anyway, Iâd totally do a Bulgarian chick, or whatever you are. Your skins a little too dark for my taste, I really like them pale blondes, but you know. Iâd do anything once, and Iâve never done a Bulgarian chick before.â He elbowed the boy next to him almost obnoxiously, âI hear them Eastern European girls are good with their tongues, if you get what I mean.â
France was a nice breath of fresh air from the smoggy streets of London, but not much more than Hogwarts. Even so, Andrei couldnât deny that there simply was an added air of elegance (and arrogance) that filled the halls of Beauxbatons that made the students and professors attractive and made him think of his own house. Though Slytherin was always at least half-filled with the filthy rich, Andrei had never sunk his elbows into so much wealth before. He and his parents, to be honest, were poor. In fact, the fact that Hogwarts tuition was free was what convinced Andreiâs parents not to homeschool him and send him off to one of the worldâs best wizarding schools instead.Â
Oh, Andrei used their decision well. He fought tooth and nail to climb to the top of the rankings, overpassing even the Ravenclaws, was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team (he had to give up the position once he signed on to go to Beauxbatons) and one of the best in Hogwartsâ joke of a duelling club. Thus, thinking himself equipped with intelligence, a streak of competitiveness, talent and zeal, Andrei damn well smiled when he heard his name fall from the headmistressâ lips in strange, distorted syllables. Nodding to the half-hearted cheers and claps on the back from his schoolmates, he disentangled himself from his seat and went to join the other champions. It was fine; he didnât make any close friends in Hogwarts, much less was close with anyone else who came on this trip.
The briefing only took a short moment, and then they were left to their own devices. Andrei took this moment to quickly assess the other champions. From here on out, a strategy would have to be put in place. Heâd start out neutral, then progress from there. Listening to pretty French boy rattle off, Andrei very nearly rolled his eyes, and then was caught off guard by being elbowed. He didnât really understand what Dieudonne had been saying, but he thought that he heard the word âBulgarianâ or some shit about girls somewhere in there. Besides, a teenage boy talking with such animation and inflection of tone could only be talking about one thing: sex. âI donât know, I think there are some rather attractive people at Beauxbatons,â he shrugged, looking straight at the French student without realizing what he was doing. Ah. Giving Dieudonne a sideways glance and not caring (okay, he was hoping) that he would meet Andreiâs eyes, Andrei slowly loosened his tie (formal attire sucked) and unpopped a few of the buttons of his dress shirt as he casually bared more skin. If Andrei could use flirtations to win this thing, then he was going to go for it.Â
Dieudonne was speaking in fluent French then, as he no doubt did naturally, and Darina watched him in absolute silence, trying to pick out even a single word that she knew. That was her own fault, really, she supposed, that she didnât understand anything. She should have made more of an effort to learn the language in the months leading up to the announcement about the Tournament, but she had never done well with languages, after all. She hardly spoke English well enough to converse with the Hogwarts boy, let alone enough French to make any kind of dent in their conversation. It had hardly seemed important compared to the magical training they received, after all, and Darina was much more invested in the charms and defensive spells that they spent the two months prior to the Tournament training with in anticipation of their trip, foregoing even their usual summer for the sake of coming out prepared.
The Hogwarts boy, Andrei, seemed to understand a little more than she did, though. As she looked between the two of them slowly, she listened to his response, biting the inside of her lip when Andrei seemed to immediately start flirting with the other boy. Not that she could blame him, of course. Dieudonne was certainly handsome, as was Andrei with his slow moving motions and the pretty lilt in his voice. But she couldnât help but wonder what the French boy had said nonetheless, and what it was that she was entirely missing out upon for her inability to understand a word that he was saying.Â
Looking away from Andrei as he popped the buttons on his shirt, she lounged back a little more comfortably and patted down her pockets, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. âDo you mind if I smoke? Fume?â she questioned, allowing the last word in French. That was the only one that sheâd learned, in all honesty; she had known she would need to know that, at least, in case there were anyone around that couldnât be around smoke. She glanced between the two as she awaited an affirmation or denial, tacking on a simple, âThere are many attractive people around the school, I think. So many light and fair people, Iâve noticed.â
