308AN: I won't make Fleur's speech exactly like in the canon to evidentiate her accent. I will only omit the 'h' letters at the beginning of the words. Naturally, that does not apply when it comes to writing her thoughts.
'Thoughts'
"English dialogue"
≪ French dialogue ≫
The quotation marks for the French dialgoue are there. Only those who are on the mobile app cannot see them. Read the chapter on the browser instead.
I will try to find a solution when I get back from work.
Chapter 2 - The Transfer Student
After bidding his grandparents goodbye, Harry picked up his trunk and followed his younger brother into the carriage.
"Hey, Matt! Here! We saved you a spot!" a brown-haired boy peeked his head out of a compartment and called out.
"Seamus! It's been so long, mate!" Matt greeted him happily before turning to look at Harry, who was behind him.
"Go ahead. I'll find an unoccupied carriage in the back," Harry reassured him.
Leaving his younger brother with his boisterous group of friends, he headed towards the back of the train, where the empty compartments were supposed to be.
Other than saying hello to the familiar faces in his passing, he did not encounter anything unusual… …until a tall boy with chin-length wavy brown hair and brown eyes stopped in the middle of the corridor.
Even before the boy opened his mouth, Harry let out a sigh, knowing what was going to happen next.
"Potter. Long time, no see!" the boy said in a loud voice. Although the train had just left King's Cross, he was already wearing his Hogwarts robes.
"Not long enough," Harry muttered in reply and tried to pass through, but the boy stepped sideways, blocking his way.
Their interaction was not missed by the nearby students. In a few seconds, the entire carriage was crowded to the brim as many started ogling at the spectacle curiously.
"What do you want, Brunt?"
"It looks like I got it, not you. I am the winner this time around."
It did not take a genius to understand what Brunt was talking about if one were to look at the way he was puffing his chest. An eye-catching blue badge with an eagle and a large P on it was glinting almost blindingly on his left pec.
Harry involuntarily snickered.
"Did you cast a Cleaning Charm on it? It's great that you're good at that because that's what you'll be doing for the next three years: cleaning after professors and running errands for them."
A pink hue appeared on Felix Brunt's cheeks when quite a few in the crowd started sniggering at Harry's words.
"That's just loser talk! You're just like the fox in Aesop's fables, saying that the grapes are sour when it can't get to them!"
"Cool story, mate, now how about you let me pass?" Harry said, not even trying to disguise his lack of interest. "Or you're going to tell us all another story about foxes?"
The instigators on the sidelines all made an "Ohhh!" sound at his words. It was like pouring oil on fire. And their efforts did not go unrewarded. When Harry grabbed his trunk and tried to pass again, Brunt shoved him back roughly.
Harry stumbled back, dropping his trunk on the floor and just barely regaining his balance by supporting himself against the wall of the carriage.
The children watching from the sidelines all burst into cheers and yells.
"Get him!"
"Fight!" "Fight!" "Fight!"
But Harry did not respond to the provocation in kind, and he seemed to ignore the crowd of instigators around him. He was strangely calm. Instead, he bent down to grab his trunk from the floor.
Nobody noticed that, when he grabbed the handle of his trunk, the upper part of his wand also slipped down from his sleeve into his hand for a brief moment, its tip aimed at Felix Brunt's feet.
'Confundus!' he cast nonverbally.
Just as Harry stood up, Felix suddenly turned around and shouted:
"Which one among you, bastards, spat on the back of my neck?"
Momentarily, the people behind him were caught off guard, not understanding why he was acting like that out of the blue.
"Was it you? Huh?" Felix shouted and grabbed another boy by the collar of his shirt.
"Did you find a Flobberworm in your cereal this morning? What's wrong with you?" the other boy said and tried to get Felix's hands off him.
"What's wrong with me? You are the one who spit on me! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Felix shouted as he shook him roughly by his clothes.
Unfortunately for Felix, the boy that he picked up a fight with now was no less physically imposing than him.
Pushing and shoving each other, Felix and the other boy fell through the open door of a compartment and started rolling on the floor as they wrestled against each other.
While the children, especially the girls, started screaming out loud, Harry just grabbed his trunk and forced his way out of the crowded carriage.
'What a tool,' Harry thought in annoyance.
Once he reached the train's last carriage, the noise coming from the crowd he had left behind disappeared.
'There are more students than the previous year,' he noted when he saw that there were some people even in the last carriage.
Fortunately, there was still an empty compartment. Satisfied with the fact that it was quiet, Harry let out another sigh and, after levitating his trunk up on the rack, he sat down.
He took out his wand and transfigured the end of the seat towards the window into a pillow before lying down on his back and resting his head on it. The trip from London to Hogsmeade was going to take several good hours.
'Might as well take a nap in the meantime.'
Bearing that thought in mind, he pointed his wand at the window's curtains, making them shut close. But when he aimed his wand at the door to pull the door's curtains shut too, the door slid open.
"'Ello. Sorry to bother you. May I sit in this compartment too?"
Harry's eyebrows rose into his hairline at the newcomer's accent. It did not sound like that of a native English speaker. Taking a better look at them, he realised that he had never seen that person before either.
It was a thin and relatively tall (taller than Harry at least) boy who, for the lack of a better expression, looked like every teen girl's heartthrob, straight off the cover of a magazine.
The butt-cut silvery hair, the small face, the small nose, the big and bright blue eyes with long silvery eyelashes, and the unusually full and well-defined lips gave him an almost androgynous appearance.
It would be impossible for anyone not to notice or remember someone as eye-catching as them.
'Is he, perhaps, a transfer student?'
Harry held back a groan as he got up in a sitting position, not wanting to give off a rude first impression.
"Um, sure, come in."
The blond boy came in and levitated his trunk on the rack too. Then, he carefully smoothed his pants with his hands as if he were wearing a skirt as he sat down on the seat opposite Harry. That gesture, too, made Harry feel a sense of incongruity.
"Thank you. I am Florent Delacour. I will be starting my fifth year at 'Ogwarts this year."
"So that's why I couldn't remember seeing you before! I'm Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you."
As they shook hands, Harry involuntarily noticed how much smaller and softer to the touch Florent's hand was compared to his.
Slightly disturbed at himself for the completely unnecessary things he was involuntarily taking note of, Harry was, for a brief moment, at a loss for what to say next.
"...So, what made you want to join Hogwarts so late into your magical education?"
"My parents discovered a new business opportunity in 'Ogsmeade. I did not want to be apart from them, so I transferred from Beauxbatons to 'Ogwarts so we could stay close to each other. I'm French, by the way."
"Yes, I noticed," Harry said in mild amusement. But when Florent smiled, he felt an uncomfortable chill go down his spine.
"It is because of my accent, isn't it? My English isn't perfect yet. But I'm a quick learner. I will get it down in no time!" Florent said confidently.
"No worries. Your English is already better than that of some of the guys in my year."
Florent giggled, and the feminine sound of his laughter made Harry rub the back of his neck awkwardly.
'What's with this guy?'
He had never met someone like him—someone who was effortlessly pushing all his wrong buttons.
Clearing his throat, Harry asked: "Sooo… have you heard about the House system in our school?"
"Oui. Gryffindor, Slytherin, 'Ufflepuff, and Ravenclaw."
"Do you have any preferences?"
"I think I would fit in Ravenclaw the best. I aim to get Os in all my OWLs this year," Florent said, a look of determination on his face.
The French boy ran a hand through his silvery hair, pushing a few loose strands behind his ears before asking:
"What about you? What 'ouse and year are you?"
"I'm a Ravenclaw. I'm also a fifth-year, just like you," Harry replied.
"A fifth year?!" Florent said, a look of surprise flashing on his face. "Can all fifth-year students cast spells nonverbally like you?"
Now it was Harry's turn to be startled.
"I 'appened to see your altercation with that bully,' Florent explained. "I noticed your wand slipped into your 'and and then 'e started acting strange. Did you cast a Confudus Charm on 'im?"
"What are you after?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly at him.
Florent quickly raised his hands to show he had no ill intentions whatsoever.
"Non, I do not mean any 'arm! It's just that, at Beauxbatons, we don't learn nonverbal casting until the Sixth Year. You looked younger than that, so I was curious. I wanted to know what level 'Ogwarts students are compared to Beauxbatons."
Harry looked at him searchingly for a few seconds, as if to gauge whether he was telling the truth or not.
"It's the same here as well. They start teaching us nonverbal casting in the Sixth year."
"Oh! Then you are an exception, not the norm?"
"Yes. I've always had a knack for spell casting," Harry glossed over it, not going into detail about how he studied and trained until he was mentally exhausted almost every day, even during the summer holiday.
"What a relief!" Florent exclaimed with a hand on his chest. "I was scared that all fifth-year students are as advanced as you are and that I am lacking terribly compared to everyone. That's why I wanted to talk to you."
"I see… Well, what have you studied so far?" Harry asked, curious about the curriculum at Beauxbatons.
As the two of them started talking about school and magic, Harry forgot about the strange vibes he was getting from the French boy, and the remaining hours passed in the blink of an eye.
⁂ Hogwarts, the Headmaster's Office ⁂
"This is highly inappropriate! I cannot believe you would agree to this, Headmaster!"
It was exceedingly rare for one to see the Deputy Headmistress lose her cool like that, so Dumbledore was more than a little startled when she raised her voice. He had not expected her to show such a fierce reaction.
"I simply could not turn him down. I owed Pierre a debt. I had never thought he would one day ask me something like that," Dumbledore said calmly.
Minerva McGonagall began pacing around the Headmaster's office.
"Personal life matters should never be brought to work! Not only is it inappropriate, it is unethical, it is- it is scandalous!"
"Minerva-"
"Can you imagine what would happen if this matter became public?! A girl posing as a boy and living in the same dormitory as them?!"
A feeling of helplessness washed over Dumbledore as he watched Professor McGonagall have a meltdown. He could not even hold it against her because he one hundred percent agreed with every single word she said.
"It was thanks to Pierre that I had the chance to meet Nicholas Flamel when I was young, and it was thanks to his financial support that I could continue my studies in alchemy," Dumbledore explained himself. "That money may have been only a drop in the bucket for him, but, for my younger self, that money and the opportunity he gave me were a life changer. I can say confidently that I would not be here today if not for him. You should know what it means to have a life debt to someone and how they work; the bigger the gratitude,"
"The stronger the debt," McGongall irately completed his words.
"Professor McGonagall, if I may say something," the third occupant of the room, who had been silent until then, spoke. It was a tiny little man, even shorter than most first-year students. "It's not the end of the world. If there is any consolation, it's a girl among boys, not the other way around."
A muggle might have objected to what he said, but, apparently, his words were actually accepted by the older professor. It was no surprise; even Hogwarts dormitories were charmed to bar entry for boys into girls' rooms, but not the other way around.
"But how would she hide the fact that she's a girl for an entire year?" asked McGonagall. "Furthermore, she is a Veela! She may be able to change her appearance with Transfiguration spells, but there's no hiding her allure."
"The allure should not be a problem," Dumbledore answered. "It is not a widely known fact, but Veela's charm comes from their hair. It is also why their hair can be used as cores for wands, because it is magical. The strength of their Veela charm is directly proportional to the length of their hair. That is to say, if a Veela woman were to cut her hair completely, her allure would disappear too."
Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were both surprised to hear that.
"The act of cutting their hair is almost sacrilegious for Veela women. It is not only their allure that is affected, but it would cause an imbalance in their physical and mental state too. A Veela does not lightly go through with such an act. The fact that the girl went as far as to cut her hair tells us that this is not just the tantrum of a teenager and that her parents are supporting her decision too."
"Professor Dumbledore?" Flitwick asked.
"Yes, Filius?"
"Why am I the only professor you're sharing this with? Or have you already told the rest?"
"Other than Minerva, I am only telling you because I am quite confident that the girl will be sorted into your house. It is only fair and wise for the Head of the House to know about this matter as well. But I hope to keep it a secret from everyone else."
Dumbledore's decision was not just for the sake of the girl but for his own sake too, because McGonagall was definitely not going to be the only professor to overreact like she did upon learning of what he had done.
Flitwick felt the telltale signs betraying the start of a massive headache.
Dumbledore also rubbed his temples with his fingers.
"I apologise for putting you through this. But you have my word that should things go wrong, I will take full responsibility."
"As you should," McGonagall said irately.
The old witch would have had a lot more to say but their meeting came to an abrupt end when one of the Portraits hanging on the walls of the office spoke up:
"Professor Dumbledore, the Hogwarts Express has arrived in Hogsmeade."
⁂ Fleur's POV ⁂
Going through the barrier had been a rather novel experience for her, but when she arrived on the 3/4 platform and saw their transportation, she was not impressed.
≪ That's rather…mundane ≫, Fleur's mother said, unknowingly having the same thoughts as her daughter.
Students were transported to Beauxbatons via an enormous, house-sized carriage pulled by 12 Abraxas, a magical species of gigantic white, winged horses.
≪ Well, what else says Great Britain more than a steam-powered train? ≫ Fleur's father chuckled.
The foreign family talking in French drew quite a few looks from the people nearby, but they were soon forgotten with the arrival of four new people. Or, better said, the arrival of a particular red-haired boy with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
≪ Mamman, it's him! It's him! ≫ little Gabrielle said excitedly and tried to run to him, but her mother held her by her hand, not allowing her to go.
≪ No, you can't. It wouldn't be nice, and you would inconvenience him. See? He's not happy with how everyone is crowding around him. ≫ Apoline admonished her kindly, but firmly.
As if to prove her words true, Matthew and his family had to shield their eyes and walk towards the train at a brisk pace in order to get away from the reporters' incessant camera flashes.
≪ She's going to be so disappointed in a few years when she grows up and realises those storybooks about Matthew Potter aren't real. ≫ Fleur said, giggling softly.
Hearing the Hogwarts Express's whistle, the Delacours knew it was time for them to say their daughter goodbye.
Apoline took Fleur in her arms, hugging her tightly.
≪ Anything unpleasant to you, no matter how small, please let us know. ≫
≪ Why? So you could pull me out of Hogwarts? ≫ Fleur complained jokingly.
Once her mother let go of her, her father said in a serious voice:
≪ Promise me to be careful, Fleur. As your parents, we've done everything we could to support your decision. You know how difficult it was to get Dumbledore's approval. Your grandfather had to, pretty much, twist his arm to get you enrolled. But all that would go down the drain if your cover were to be blown. We did all we could to get you in, but staying in will depend entirely on you. ≫
≪ Jean, stop nagging her, she knows all that already. ≫ Apoline said.
≪ Don't worry, papa; I understand. And I'm grateful. I won't disappoint you. ≫
Jean smiled at her daughter.
≪ That's my girl. Come here, ≫ he said, embracing her.
Once he hugged her little sister too, Fleur climbed up in the carriage, and her father helped her get her trunk up too.
Half a minute later, as she was dragging her trunk after her, looking for a free compartment, she stumbled upon a scene that made her face twist into a frown.
'Looks like the British aren't that different from us after all,' Fleur thought as she watched a tall boy pushing a shorter boy back roughly, making him stumble back.
If she were to see anything like that in Beauxbatons, she would step in to give the bully a piece of her mind. However, as much as she hated bullying, she could not act up now. She had not even started her first day at Hogwarts. Furthermore, her parents had made it crystal clear to her that she would be pulled out of Hogwarts right away if her cover were to be blown. She could not stand out for any reason other than her grades.
Fortunately, she was saved from her dilemma by what happened next. The others around her did not seem to notice what had transpired, but she was a Veela; her eyesight was superior to that of most humans. She had seen the tip of his wand slip out of his sleeve. A second later, the bully inexplicably changed the target of his ire, completely forgetting about the one with whom he had picked up a fight originally.
'Did he just cast a nonverbal Confundus Charm?!'
Judging from his appearance, the boy looked no older than her.
'How did he do that?'
As far as she knew, Hogwarts' teaching standards were comparable to those of Beauxbatons. Most students would start to get the hang of nonverbal casting only in their 6th year, and in the latter half of it at that. Not before even starting their 5th year.
Burning with curiosity, Fleur ignored the brawl that broke out between the other two boys and quickly followed the shorter one out of the carriage.
⁂
Normally, second-year students and above travelled from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts by Thestral-pulled carriages, but since she was a new student, Fleur was led along with the first years to the dock.
If Fleur had been less than impressed with the Hogwarts Express, her haughtiness disappeared after her little boat trip over the Black Lake. The millennia-old castle with its tall towers and battlements looked equally intimidating and awe-inspiring. Moreover, it was not raining that night; the starry sky, the calm surface of the lake, and the majestic castle with its many lit-up windows and torches made for a sight that she would not forget anytime soon.
Once they arrived at the boathouse and disembarked, their guide, a middle-aged man with short, grizzled hair and wearing a scuffed green dragonhide cloak, started walking in front of the group with his wand above his head, lighting up the way.
"Careful not to stumble. Don't fall behind, or you may get snatched by a centaur or something," the man said in a thick Glasglow accent.
When the children huddled up and looked around, scared, the man burst into good-natured laughter.
"Haha! I'm just messing with you. No worries, Centaurs are good folk. As long as you don't poke them with a stick, they'll leave you alone. But you'll hear more of that in your classes. Till then, you have to survive through the Sorting Ceremony."
Fleur's anxiety spiked at the middle-aged wizard's ramblings because her parents had refused to tell her what the sorting ceremony was.
If Fleur was having such thoughts, the first-year students were downright shivering in their timbers.
"Sir, what do you mean by surviving? What do we have to do?" a young, mousy-looking boy squeaked out in a trembling voice.
"It changes from one year to another," the man said. "I won't tell you what the trial is this year but I'll give you some examples from the previous years. Three years ago, the students had to wrestle a mountain troll. Half of them spent their night in the hospital wing. And two years ago, they had to take on a pack of Dugbogs. At least four students dropped out. As for last year…"
The man paused dramatically for a moment.
"...it's better that you don't know, lest you'll lose all the courage and run away."
'He is so full of shit!' Fleur inwardly cussed. 'I don't buy it for a second! Even 50 children would not be enough to take on a mountain troll!'
Despite what she was telling herself, her hands became clammy with her rising anxiety.
'There's no way they would bring a pack of Dugbogs inside the school….right?'
On one hand, she was 99% sure that the caretaker was messing with them. But on the other hand, that 1% possibility that he was speaking the truth wouldn't let her have peace. After all, she had heard all sorts of rumours about the UK when she was in France. Some of those rumours made the Brits out to be some sort of barbarians who lived in a wizarding version of the Muggle Wild West.
⁂
'I'm going to kill that old man!'
That was the first thought that came to Fleur's mind when Minerva McGonagall welcomed them and led them into the Great Hall.
There were no trolls, no packs of Dugbogs, or any other dangerous magical beasts.
'I knew it! I knew he was messing with us!'
After all, it didn't make sense for Hogwarts to put young children through such a trial when many of them didn't know how to cast even one spell.
Once the new students were brought to the front of the Great Hall and the Sorting Hat was done with its little song, Minerval McGonagall spoke:
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."
Three students were called one by one, and the Sorting Hat shouted the name of their new house.
"Colin Creevey!"
Realizing that students were called in the alphabetical order of their surnames, Fleur didn't even have the time to prepare her heart before it was her turn to step forth to be sorted.
"Delacour, Florent!"
The moment her name was called out and she walked in front of everyone, gasps could be heard from various girls all over the room.
"I've never seen him before. Who is he?"
"A transfer student?!"
"Ohmygosh!"
"Merlin, he's so dreamy!"
On the other side, many boys grumbled or clicked their tongues when they saw the girls' reaction.
But Fleur was oblivious to everything around her. Her heart leapt into her chest when the Deputy Headmistress put the Sorting Hat on her head, and she realised that the hat was a magical artefact capable of Legilimency.
"Don't be too scared. I will not reveal your secrets. If the Headmaster allowed you to enrol while posing as a boy, he must have a good reason for it," the Sorting Hat reassured her. "Now, let's see... ah, such great ambition, a burning desire to prove yourself! Mhm… you're not lacking talent either; no, there's plenty of it... Hmm, the obvious choice would be to send you to Slytherin, but that would be a disservice to you given your bloodline. Better be... RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaw table (especially the girls) burst into thunderous applause when 'Florent' Delacour was sorted into their house.
Fleur's hearing was muffled due to the adrenaline coursing through her system, and she appeared to be confused when she saw half a dozen Ravenclaw girls calling out for her. But then she noticed a familiar face: it was the boy with whom she had become friends on the train. She was mostly on autopilot as she walked to the Ravenclaw table and sat at the end of the table, on the empty spot next to him.
AN: you can join me on discord at /x7xdd53WqE if you are interested.