S. Fawcett

Smaantha Fawcett Hogwarts Champion Ravenclaw || 7th year

[amxllionfaces-blog]

It Begins

[lotadwrites]

[amxllionfaces ]:

If the English flowing off of the tongues of most of the people around her was difficult, the French was somehow even worse. Darina barely understood a word of the English, but she couldn’t pick out a single thing of the French, even the words that she had perhaps heard spoken before. It made her frown even as she lounged back, kicking a foot up onto the table in front of herself as the other girl spoke. She watched the seemingly friendly way Dieudonne spoke, unsure if he was actually making a good joke or if it was something like the boys at her school so often made, crude or at the expense of the peers around them. Darina couldn’t make a good judgment on it, though.

Samantha, however, seemed to think that it wasn’t friendly with the way she edged away from him, though at least she didn’t understand either. That was something, at least. Darina didn’t feel like the odd one out of the circle that way. It was harder, however, to follow the girl’s words when she started speaking in response to her, much quicker English than she could understand without taking a long minute to think over some of the words. Even then, she only understood some of them, and they were the simplest ones at that.

Still, Darina offered an easy smile to them both in return, shrugging a shoulder in Dieudonne’s direction as well. “I’m excited to know what they are,” she returned slowly, tilting her head. “But I won’t know if I’m excited for them until then. It’ll be… testing.” They would all be testing, of course, and Darina knew the other two champions knew that as well as she did. If they understood what she was saying, at least. “I’m more excited for the other things. The Yule Ball, things like that. And everyone wishing they were us is fun.”

Dieudonne was offended when the Hogwarts girl pulled away from him. He knew he must have looked offended too, but quickly he masked it with another bright smile and lounged lazily back in his seat. He didn’t understand most of what the two girls were saying, only catching a couple of words he knew in English but couldn’t catch enough to form a sentence. There were, though, two words he did manage to pick out in the conversation, though. 

“Ah, Yule Ball? Bal de Noel. Same thing, right?” He looked proud of himself for picking that out, but his look slowly turned into one of confusion, and then embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if he was right, now that he thought about it. Darina’s accent had been hard to pick out, and he couldn’t quite remember if that was the English for the tradition. He had thought he had been told that information, but he had been taught so much before the visitors arrived that he could be completely misinformed. 

Dieudonne awkwardly rubbed at the back of his head before adding, “I think that’s what we’re talking about. Or well. What you’re talking about. And I’m totally excited for it too. Dressing up and getting down is my kind of thing, you know?”

[fawcettsamantha]

Samantha nodded to the boy, smiling a little friendlier to him. "Yule Ball, exactly." Maybe the language barrier wouldn't be as bad as she'd thought? Even as he returned to French and she stopped understanding anything he was saying, though the last bit seemed to rise into a question she didn't know how to answer, so she simply stuck to the topic all three of them seemed to know about, trying to talk slower than she usually did, realizing her typical fast spoken habits were only going to make the language barrier worse. "The Yule Ball should definitely be fun. Everyone in formal wear, trying to outshine everyone else, it should be fun to watch. Do you two know who you're going to bring?"

She had meant to stick to the one common topic they'd hit on, but she couldn't resist addressing the girl's lat comment. "I'm almost wishing anyone else was me right about now, in all honesty. I just wanted to come, enter to pad my resume, and watch some champion risk life and limb while I watched safely from the sidelines. And maybe picked up some tips form other schools." She shrugged, laughing a little to hide the worry. "And now I guess I'm the one risking life and limb." She knew she could clever her way through most of the challenges, but she'd looked into the ones form the past and they were not all ones she could rely on wits and brains to get her through. She was going to have to work on her endurance if she hoped to even get through some of the challenges, especially since Dieudonne looked fit enough and Darina was from arguably the toughest school in the world; undoubtedly she was hiding some kind of physicality that Samantha lacked.

[amxllionfaces-blog]

It Begins

Darina was as surprised as anyone else to hear her name called for the Tournament. There was no shortage of strapping gentlemen from Durmstrang that could have been chosen, after all. They were all chomping at the bit to go risk their lives for the pride of the school, of course, practically pushing one another out of their seats to get up to the front of the table and stand before their name was even called. As one of just a small handful of girls that had been brought along, Davina had almost not even entered her name. She would get the trip to France for the year regardless, after all; why should she risk herself like the rest of them?

It had been Viktor’s encouragement that made her put in the slip at last, a name that came forth on a still whole doily from the Beauxbatons tables, and therefore, this whole thing was Viktor’s fault, really. It was all on him, that damned former competitor, that her name had been chosen and she was one of the three that now had to take part in the foolish, deadly competition. Darina had hardly listened as they were briefed on what was going to happen during the three games – she recognized the other two, a Hogwarts girl named Samantha and a Beauxbatons boy named Dieudonne, from meals and brief conversations, but not particularly well.

It was almost a surprise, therefore, when they were dismissed for the evening, told they were permitted to go off on their own and enjoy their choosing before they had to begin preparing for whatever their potential first event was. Davina took a quick glance around the room, at the professors that were now going on their way and the other two champions, before leaning back in her seat and kicking one foot up onto the table in front of her. “Looks like an interesting year to come,” she offered out as she lounged, accent thick and a little difficult to pull the English through. “If my classmates don’t murder me before the first task, that is. You two must be quite excited.”

[lotadwrites]

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 didn’t even recognize it. In fact, Dieudonne almost didn’t 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. “Shared my ass,” Dieudonne had told his friends, “If it was shared, you’d think I’d speak it.” 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 hadn’t 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 wasn’t 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 wasn’t 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 couldn’t use his boyish charms because he just, well, couldn’t speak their language. When the female from Durmstrang- what was her name again?- began talking, it all washed right over Dieudonne’s head. It was only a brief, split second wondering if either of them spoke French before he replied in his first language, “I’m disgusted that we’re in France and not one person has bothered speaking French, besides that quick briefing that was translated for me. Anyway, I’d 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. I’d do anything once, and I’ve never done a Bulgarian chick before.” He elbowed the girl next to him, “I hear them Eastern European girls are good with their tongues, if you get what I mean.”

[fawcettsamantha]

The joy had faded almost before her classmates had finished congratulating her with envious eyes and false assurances that she'd surely win. They didn't believe that anymore than she did; she was probably going to die in some ridiculous way because she couldn't hack the physical demands of the competition. At least she'd get something cool on her gravestone, but she'd really rather not die before her grand life plans were realized. She had things to do, goals to accomplish, a life to live. It'd be a shame to die in some "friendly" competition.

The girl that had been called for Durmstrang- good for her for beating out the boys, though she didn't exactly look like someone Samantha would have expected from the notoriously masculine school- was speaking, in slightly broken but understandable English, and she laughed in agreement. But then the boy from Beauxbtons walked up and started talking in rapid French, and she lifted an eyebrow. "Yeah, I don't understand anything you'e saying. Try English, mate." She offered, edging away from him when he elbowed her. She wasn't sure what he was saying, and perhaps if she'd understood him it would have made it easier, but something about his tone and the manly-friendly way he was nudging her hinted she didn't like what he was saying. Damn all of them if he was going to speak a language she didn't understand this whole time; she wanted to like her competitors almost as much as she wanted to beat them, but if all she had was tone and body language, she wasn't destined to be Beauxbaton's biggest fan.

She turned back to Durmstrang with a friendlier expression. "Hopefully we can avoid any murder. That would up the interesting level to undesirable heights, I think. Are you two looking forward to the tasks?" Maybe if they were as apprehensive as she was she could feel better about the whole situation.