Outfit

Victoire was seated in the upper chambers of the gargantuan Beauxbatons carriage. It'd been a few hours since they left Cannes, and with every minute, a creeping frost edged inside the luxurious transportation. She'd visited England but three times, soon learning of the despicable weather and the even more despicable cuisine. There were plenty of home comforts that would be left back at the Palace. Madame Bisclavret was far from pleased at having to 'rough it' within the halls of Hogwarts, but the Tetrawizard Tournament was far too important to miss. Beauxbatons would enter, Beauxbatons would perform, and ultimately - Beauxbatons would win. Nobody could compete with the sense of prestige and honour associated with the school banner, and Victoire was focused on not only bolstering her already impeccable (and in secret, questionable) reputation, but to make an example of the other schools.

"Surely, we're not far now?" Victoire muttered to a nearby colleague, one lithe leg crossing the other. "I recognise that Scottish stench of manure a mile off." She curled her nose up in disgust, glad to be protected by the fortress of opulence in which they rode. Durmstrang would undoubtedly be all animal furs and sparse wooden planks on that derelict old boat they travelled on, and as for Salem, well - the new kid on the schooling block just didn't have a look in.

Sliding on a pair of peacock blue leather gloves, Madame Bisclavret sighed, running a few fingers through long, perfectly coiffed locks. As always, the woman looked impeccable; other headmasters weren't nowhere near as concerned with their appearance, which was a tragedy in itself. All those students, all those parents - there was every reason to be chic at all times. If you didn't respect yourself first and foremost, who else would?

Her selected students for the Tetrawizard had been summoned to the Headmistress's chamber in the carriage; various navy leather armchairs and sofas were sporadically placed in front of her desk. An ornate chandelier glistened and sparkled on the ceiling, each wall decorated with vast, enchanted portraits of heavenly scenes and frolicking cherubs. It was quite the sight to behold. It was to be an informal talk, a last minute repeat of what Madame Bisclavret expected from her beloved students, and to also relax in far more extravagant surroundings than their own dormitories. A deep purple shisha pipe rested next to her, unnecessarily elaborate and tall. Taking a long, deep inhalation, she mused on the upcoming year. It was to be eventful, but fruitful; a stand-out year for the Headmistress. She'd done nothing but good for the school, and things were only going to get better.

A long stream of purple smoke escaped her rounded mouth, Victoire immediately reclining into her own throne-like chair as the rush of wizard tobacco soothed any anxieties she held. It was her one public vice in life, and she embraced it with two arms. Seeing a few students file in, she gave them a warm, wide smile. "Do come in, take a seat." The domineering woman beckoned them vaguely; they'd know it was to be a chat rather than a lecture. It was plain to see from the woman that she was in no serious mood - or at least they thought.

Outfit

Delphine Devereux, though normally bright and cheerful, was positively buzzing on this day. This day, so wonderful in its novelty- her first leap out of France and into the great, wide world! Admittedly, Britain was more like a step than a leap, but the ever-enthusiastic fourth year was always one for hyperbole. She was also one for dramatics: the small girl pranced through the giant carriage on her way to Madame Bisclavret's office, literally singing, wearing a Union Jack t-shirt for the occasion.

"Let's dance! Put on your red shoes and dance the blues!" Delphine gave a flouncy little twirl, "Let's dance to the song they're playin' on the radio!"

What would she see in Britain? Would she be able to pick Samuel, the boy who had been her "pen-pal" since June, out of a crowd? Would he know when he saw her? And what sort of stories would she find amidst the drama of the Tetrawizard Tournament? The suspense was killing her- all she wanted to do was be there and dive straight into everything- but now was the time for talks. Del had finally reached the Headmistress' office, pushed open the door, and acknowledged the woman with a sunny, "Bonjour, Madame!"

She took a seat, flopping down on one of the navy sofas gracelessly. It was actually a minor miracle that Delphine was able to make the trip at all. The fourth year was usually mildly to wholly apathetic when it came to academics- particularly subjects she didn't like- but when the opportunity for a year abroad was dangled in front of her, she got her act together in record time. Though still not the best (or most obedient) student at Beauxbatons, she did everything in her power to be sure she would be going to Britain. And here she was, a smile never having left her face since boarding the huge, flying carriage.

Jay had spent the majority of the trip so far glued to the window in his dorm room. He was still amazed by the magical structure, the gigantic flying carriage that was charmed to be much more expansive within than would have been guessed by the outside. As a budding talent within the magical design field he barely had time to do much other than fawn over the technicalities of it all. All the while the back of his mind was screaming at the prospect of seeing the Hogwarts Castle.

At first Jay had thought nothing of going to Britain, the TetraWizard Tournament had simply not interested him. His design Professor however had other plans for the charming young man. He could see the potential in Jean-Paul, the way his analytical mind could solve almost any problem that was put in front of him. He was suggested to be put on the potential Champions list and once Jay was told about all the rare and magical buildings he'd see during his year abroad he jumped at the chance.

The summons to the Headmistress office came as no suprise. From what he knew of the landscape, and the small cluster of buildings coming up on the horizon he figured they were coming up on their destination. He entered the chambers just after the bouncing fourth year. He gave the younger girl a winning smile. Jay was well known for being a charmer though thankfully not a heart breaker. He wasn't interested in relationships he just liked making girls feel good about themselves and never spared a chance to do just that.

"Why Headmistress, you look absolutely stunning today, have you done something different with you hair?" He took a seat on one of the navy leather armchairs. Now that proper compliments had been made he could focus on the design of the office around him and his bright blue eyes took on that slight faraway look it always did when his mind switched to seeing things around him in concept sketches and blue prints,

Travelling did not agree with Etienne.

For the best part of the journey, he had secluded himself as best he could from the other students, and pretended to read. Pretending, unfortunately, was the best option, since any efforts to actually read simply caused that vague feeling of nausea to become a decidedly less-vague feeling of nausea. He hadn't thought to take any potions for his motion-sickness before departure, and he certainly wasn't going to embarrass himself by asking now. No, he'd just to have put his best (apathetic) face on it and quietly wait to land.

Of course, now that the Headmistress wished to see all of them before arrival, he found himself in a room with Devereux and Valjean. This whole journey just seemed set to try him. Stalking through the door after Valjean, however, he mustered a gallant smile of his own, though it was nowhere near as charming or genuine as Valjean's, and rather suffered by comparison.

'Of course, Mme. Bisclavret would never dream of looking less than stunning when she is to represent our academy to the foreign institutions. We all need to be at our best, do we not?' His tone was nothing but polite, but his gaze slid ever so briefly from Valjean and Mme. Bisclavret to the Devereux girl. 'Best' was not a word Etienne would ever have chosen to describe her, and he was still not quite sure as to how she secured a place in the Beauxbatons delegation.

Outfit

Élodie has been all excited about the trip itself, since it was the first time she was going so far - though it wasn’t really that much far. The promises about the Tournament were flying along with her through the sky, all the dreams and plans she made with her sister warming up her heart and her smile. When her mother heard about the opportunity of her favorite daughter to become a Beauxbatons Champion, she could only see the fame Lola would achieve winning the Tournament.

When the Fontaine Sisters heard about the opportunity to go to Hogwarts, win the Tournament and the money that would come with the glory, they could only see it as the key for their freedom. And Lola would be o longer the favorite daughter of Madame Manon. She would be Cici’s favorite and only sister, just it - just what was true in her life in means of family.

She spent most of the time divided between invade other people’s chamber to see if the view of their windows was better, sharing her excitement on the way, naturally; and concerned about how Cécile was dealing with the travel. She knew Cici was as excited as her, but fearing that she could feel sick with all that motion, Lola went back to their chamber each three or five minutes to check on her. It wasn’t something boring, not even close to a burden as Manon wished she feel about her sister. It was the only thing out of the stage that Élodie was able to do with love.

When she was called to the Headmistress’s chamber, her excitement multiplied tenfold. Lola truly admired Madame Bisclavret, and see her before the arrival would probably make her feel more brave and more proud of Beauxbatons. She managed to retouch her make up quickly - her clothes were already perfect, despite it was all Manon’s choice - and, more important, convince Cécile to go there with her. Lola did all her best making puppy eyes so Cici couldn’t say no for too long.

They both reached the gorgeous chamber almost at the same time as Étienne. Lola smiled at him and nodded as a brief salute, but it was Mme. Bisclavret she greeted first, a brighter grin on her face. “Bonjour, Madame! You’re truly looking stunning today! I’m sure it’s the greatest incentive we have to do our very best.” At least the girls. Lola strongly believed that most of the Beauxbatons girls wished to be like Victoire. “Éttiene, Valjean, Devereux…” she nodded more polite this time to each one of them. “Hope you’re all having a great time!”

Outfit

Cecile traced circles, swoops and petals in the frost on the window pane she was resting against, revealing the green hills, blue-grey rivers and dots of farmhouses below. They were so high that she felt her head getting light and her stomach churning, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. From their birds-eye view, she felt like an eagle, free, strong and majestic. Closing her eyes she leaned her head against the frosty glass tried to imagine the cool wind in her hair. It was difficult to do in the warmth of a carriage and soon her eyes opened in disappointment. Once she was back in reality, she felt like a sparrow in a gilded cage. Even thousands of miles away from Manon, she felt trapped by her, stifled by the clothes Manon insisted she wear. She couldn't wait until they got to Hogsmeade, so she could change into something more comfortable.

Elodie, who had been making rounds for much of the trip, came back for her hundredth trip to see how Cecile was doing. Cecile had told her that it wasn't necessary, that she had potions to calm her nerves if she got ill from the rocking of the carriage, but part of her glowed inwardly with warmth when she saw her sister. She had a short list of people who made her feel good, and Lola was on the top of the list. This trip, however, was different from the others. Elodie wanted to join some of the other contestants in the Headmistresses compartment and wanted Cecile to join. Her eyes got so big and her bottom lip quivered so perfectly that Cecile could do nothing but sigh and pull herself to her feet. "Fine, fine... Lead the way..."

It wasn't that Cecile didn't like the headmistress. She was... alright. Pretty, yes, intelligent, yes, fashionable, yes... but she looked at Cecile the same way Manon did. As though she wasn't worth any more than a critical glance. Cecile respected her power and her abilities, but she couldn't stretch it much farther than that. So she followed behind Elodie like a shadow, slinking towards the back as they entered into the cabin. As Elodie went to chat with the Headmistress, Cecile focused on Etienne. They weren't incredibly close, and he wasn't one to talk about his feelings, but he looked a bit green about the cheeks to Cecile. Approaching him, she discretely offered him a small vial "... It doesn't taste wonderful, but it might help your stomach..." she offered with a genuine smile.

"Silence your compliments," Madame Bisclavret professed, dramatically placing the back of her hand to a porcelain forehead in jest. "You do flatter me so!" Giving a giggle, Victoire crossed one leg over the other, greeting her selected students with a warm smile. It wasn't unusual for the Headmistress to receive such statements of adoration; Beauxbatons children were raised to be respectful, grandiose and utterly charming. Their constant affections were a positive thing in Madame Bisclavret's eyes - they'd been raised in the true school fashion. After all, she didn't need to be told she looked fabulous - Victoire already knew that.

"Please, please, take a seat, there's much to discuss," she continued, gesturing for the students to pipe down. There was a fine line between teacher-student joking and matters of seriousness, and Madame Bisclavret often found a happy medium. They could come to her in times of peril or need, but she was still a force to be reckoned with; the concepts of expulsion, discipline and punishment were in no way alien to the Headmistress. Even the friendliest of dragons could breathe fires of total destruction. Getting to her feet, she moved in front of her antique desk, leaning on it with both hands clasped together. "Our arrival in Hogsmeade is imminent, so I trust you'll be ready to disembark a little less excitedly. I know this is a new experience, it's an exhilarating one for me also my dears, but we must remember our Beauxbatons decorum. We need to set an example, to show Salem, and Hogwarts, and..." Victoire paused, taking a deep breath as if about to repeat an expletive. "...Durmstrang, how to behave properly. Our beloved school is renowned for prestige, manners and social finesse, so let's not disappoint shall we?"

The Headmistress gave a welcoming but firm glance; words of extreme warning weren't needed unless somebody really overstepped the line, but Victoire was sure they knew, that deep down, nobody was above her laws. Six students that were originally on the trip had been forbidden last minute due to minor infractions of school regulation. Anybody that would even slightly embarrass Madame Bisclavret would be sent straight back to Cannes in disgrace.

Sighing, the portly woman began to stalk slowly through the arrangement of sofas, tables and armchairs, heels clicking distinctly on the marble chamber floor. "Do we have any questions? Are any of you unsure what behaviour I expect? Or how we differ from our intercontinental brethren? We may as well get all of this out the way before our arrival, lest the other schools recognise any inexperience or query on our behalf."

Corentin Gaubert, better known as simply Corey, adjusted his shirt and scowled at himself in the mirror. He could never get used to dressing up, no matter how long he had conditioned himself to do it over the course of his seven years of schooling. He would much rather be wearing regular clothing, or at least clothing that allowed one to breathe properly and be able to perform manly feats like slaying dragons and rescuing damsels in distress. Isn't that what he was along for on this journey anyway? He might as well dress the part.

Corey would have loved to remain on his journey of traveling the globe in search of the many majestic magical beasts. He longed to have the freedom to do that all day long but he still had work left to do at Beauxbatons before he could pursue that dream more fully. He could probably drop out and do it anyway, albeit in a more rogue fashion, but as much as Corey claimed that he didn't care, in this regard he did. Someday he wanted to become a noted expert when it came to caring for magical creatures. And if it could be specific to dragons, all the better. He wanted others to take him seriously and praise his efforts on their behalf.  And somehow he doubted they would be as sincere in their praise or in their critique of him if he was a school dropout. If Corey felt he was able to gain success without school, he would have done so years ago.

With a sigh, Corey finished meddling with is dress shirt and reached for his suit jacket. He slipped it on and pulled it straight. Standing to his full height, he looked in the mirror again and this time he was far less severe in his personal critique of his appearance. Even though his hair was longer than many would appreciate, he was not ready to part with the locks. At least he was clean shaven, which would likely be enough to not get a tongue lashing from the fashion police.

Glancing down at his watch, Corey realized that he would be late. He absently brushed his hair back by combing his fingers through it and started to head out of his room. Once he reached the door, however, he realized he was missing something: his tie.

"Merde!"*

Backtracking, Corey went to his duffle and began to sort through his belongings. But no tie was to be found. He cursed under his breath before his light eyes scanned the room a bit helplessly at first. Then his eyes settled on something that might solve his problem. Releasing a triumphant yelp, he reached out and snatched up a red scarf to wrap around his neck before resuming his trek to the Headmistresses compartment.

Corey arrived to the room relieved to find some notable classmates had yet to arrive. He smirked as he overheard some of the compliments paid to the headmistress. Corey could come up with nothing to top them, so he simply gave a slight bow in her direction before quickly finding a seat near the Fontaine sisters. Before sitting he leaned close to whisper, "Ça va, mes chéries?"**

It was meant more as a greeting than to elicit a response seeing as Bisclavret was speaking now and Corey turned to her to listen. While his classmates might sit upright with perfect posture, Corey rested his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands together. This was how he was most comfortable, even if he knew others frowned upon it. Still, he gave the headmistress his rapt attention, even if this was far from his ideal way to spend his time.

---

* shit
** how are you, my darlings

At Madam Bisclavret's inquiry Gerard excused himself to speak with the coachman. Although admittedly, he did not proceed straight away to the front of the carriage. Stopping by the entrance, he gazed down upon the passing countryside. He had never been her before but the terrain was familiar. A nostalgia as bitter as coffee. Even when he volunteered to assist Beauxbatons abroad, he hadn't realized he would be returning to the UK. At the very least Hogwarts would be a place of neutral memories. It had been Dorothy's school in her day...

Coming to his senses, Gerard finished his duty and returned to the Headmistress's carriage office. Even though he noticed Corey slip in, lessening his disheveled appearance, Gerard let the door close then knocked before entering.

"Pardon, Madam," Gerard said. "I've just spoke with the coachman. We should arrive within twenty minutes."

Gerard moved to stand in the back of the space, ready to attend any other needs should they arise. He paused by one student. "Are you well, Étienne?" The student looked like he was a tinge peaky with motion sickness. It wouldn't do if he ended up falling to illness before they even arrived.

Étienne's mood lightened a little at the arrival of the Fontaine sisters; it was almost pleasant to be reminded that there was decent wizarding stock here besides Mme. Bisclavret herself. How Élodie could be so cheerful so much of the time, though, he'd never be able to understand. Cécile, at least, tended towards being subdued. At the younger sister's quiet offer of a vial though, Étienne hesitated for a moment. Of course, he remembered, Cécile would have potions to spare for just this kind of situation, her constitution being what it was. He was torn between personal pride and the need to be polite. Shrugging off Cécile's generosity would just make him seem ungrateful. So after his initial hesitation, Étienne wordlessly closed the small vial in his palm, and nodded to the younger Fontaine. It was a barely detectable gesture, but it was his way of saying thank you.

He was just sitting down as Gaubert arrived; Étienne raised his hand a little in what constituted a wave, but did little else to acknowledge his presence. Gaubert was more friendly with the Fontaines anyway, and Étienne was still concentrating on not looking too ill. And failing, apparently, as M. Gries picked up on it fairly quickly. Well, one didn't get to Gerard Gries's profession without a knack for observation. Resisting the urge to give the academic advisor a pained look, Étienne nodded curtly. 'Quite well, sir.' He slipped Cécile's potion into his pocket; he'd take it as soon as he could be assured of some privacy. He still had some pride.

Deciding he needed to divert attention away from himself, Étienne took up Mme. Bisclavret's suggestion of asking any pertinent questions before arrival, and lighted on the first thought that came to mind. 'Is it true that the Durmstrang students are divided into strata based on ability?' he asked. 'And that those at Hogwarts are divided up by... personality?' His gaze slid around the room at large. Mme. Bisclavret was of course the main authority here, but he was aware that some of his fellow Beauxbatons students had partaken in the penpal programme, and had perhaps already learned more about the competing schools and how they did things.

Delphine returned Jean-Paul's smile in kind, and raised the older boy a cheeky wink. However, her bright expression briefly turned sour when she felt Étienne's judging gaze upon her. Her nose wrinkled with disdain as she silently derided him- petit serpent[1]. The wheels in her head began to spin, thinking of new ways she could annoy him on their international trip. A splendid idea popped into her head just as they were joined by the Fontaine sisters, whose presence made the fourth year's expression turn sunny once again. "Bonjour!" she greeted the two beautiful sisters happily.

When Madame Bisclavret spoke again, Delphine had to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Je vous jure, l'aspirant dans cette école est presque assez pour me faire vomir..."[2] she thought to herself, though her scorn was mostly for Étienne. Their headmistress was an elegant beauty, to be sure, but Delphine often did her best to steer clear of her, lest the fourth year's lack of grace get her into deep trouble. But her tendency to blurt got the better of her when prompted for questions- which Del was always full of- "Is there a cinema in Hogsmeade?" she asked, stumbling a bit with the word "Hogsmeade". It was a very silly name in the young woman's opinion. She elaborated, "I told my penpal Samuel that we would go to the cinema... he is 'Amish' and has not seen many films!"

1.	"little snake"
2.	"I swear, the sucking up at this school is almost enough to make me vomit..."

Lola sat as soon as the Headmistress demanded, taking Cici by the hand and pulling her gently to sit by her side. She stood there with her ankles crossed elegantly while the little series of events was happening around her. Corey, that arrived late, greeted both sisters and sat by Cici’s side. Lola gave him a discreet blink on the impossibility of giving a better answer to his question right on the moment. She was glad to see him close to Cécile, and this was evident on her smile. In her mind they were the perfect couple and she hoped that the unusual year could open their eyes to that.

Someone knocked on the door right after - that was Monsieur Gries, to announce that the arrival would be in twenty minutes. “Are you ready?” She murmured discreetly to her sister, holding her hand tighter so she could know that they both were together on that. They wouldn’t be sent back to Cannes before the right time nor would they come back to Paris to live with their mother again. Depending on how Britain was, they could even consider stand in there. Who knows? Lola was dreaming while awake with the possibilities. Étienne’s voice took her back to earth.

“Is it true that the Durmstrang students are divided into strata based on ability? And that those at Hogwarts are divided up by... personality?”

Cécile, who had been reading about the Tournament and the other schools, told her something about that. Sounded awful to her to be separate from the others for such criteria. Mostly because she would be separate from Cici if Beauxbatons adopted any of the both methods. “Seems to be like this, and I think it’s awful! We do way much better. I haven’t heard much from… Salem. How is Salem like, Mme. Bisclavret?”

“Cinema?” She asked Delphine right after her question about the existence of that in Hogsmeade. Lola knew what cinema was, but Manon never let her go in one. That was never a huge desire for her, really, but the opportunity of doing everything she could get away with, without her mother knowing, put her in an eager mood to break all those traditionalist rules, one after another, even the littlest. “May I go with you?” She murmured discreetly again, not wanting to interrupt Mme. Bisclavret.

Etienne's hesitance was met with a soft smile from Cecile, the latter knowing full well that his pride made it difficult for him to accept her help. She understood on some level, being a very private person herself, but felt that after over a decade of acquaintance that he would realize she never thought ill of him. At least, not when it came to carriage sickness. As his hand cradled the small vial, she gave it a slight, friendly squeeze and then wandered over to her sister, aware that he would prefer to drink it in private.

The headmistress begin her speech, cheering them on... or something. Cecile wasn't particularly interested. It wasn't that the words weren't eloquent and inspiring, just that she didn't need them to push forward and do her best. She had something stronger encouraging her. In particular, her and her sisters freedom. If they didn't win that money prize, she would have only one option for escape: Marriage. Not to someone she loved either, but someone her mother had picked from the echelons of wizarding elite. The idea made her slightly sick to her stomach, or it could be the swaying of the carriage, she wasn't quite sure. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against Elodie's shoulder.

"Ça va, mes chéries?"

A familiar voice and smell came very close and Cecile's eyes peeked open to see Corey's smiling face. His simple but warm musky scent put her at ease and she smiled warmly at him before closing her eyes again. She didn't know why she enjoyed the smell of leather and what was likely sweat, but on him she did. Corey didn't need ridiculous colognes that made you smell like an old woman, he smelled great au naturale. Sighing a little, Cici was too far gone in her thoughts to hear her sister when she spoke and simply squeezed her hand back in response. It wasn't until Elodie said something about the strata of Durmstrang and the houses of Hogwarts that Cecile returned to earth and opened her wide hazel eyes.

"I hear they are divided amongst their dormitories randomly..." Cecile yawned a little and sat up, stretching. Her sister then switched over to Delphine, talking about the Cinema and Cecile glanced over at Corey. Leaning down... or up rather since she was so much shorter than him, she rested her head on his shoulder. Looking up at him from her perch, she grinned "Bonjour monsieur..." She chirped playfully.

Étienne suggested he was fine and Gerard did not pry further. The boy was at times very stoic, self assertive and introspective. He he believed he was fine, that would do enough to better him before they landed. Simpler than making a fuss if Étienne would not take medication in front of everyone else.

At the talk of the structure of the other schools (and of cinemas, whatever Delphine Devereux had heard he doubted that the entirely magical village would have a motion pictures venue) Gerard stood listening. All good points from those that spoke up. When he felt he could clarify even more he added "Durmstang does indeed value in house competition across all it's academics and extra curriculars. Of the schools attending they will be the most used to competition. Difficult to beat but not impossible. Like all of us, they will be in the dark for many of the upcoming events. Not to speak ill of competitors, but I have seen that too much competition can limit one to a narrow path. They work best making quick assumptions and if those assumptions are wrong they will have to change their plan in mid-charge."

"And Hogwarts does sort its students by 'personality' although in actuality the answer isn't that simple. As you may know, Hogwarts was founded by four witches and wizards. Each valued different traits and these founders left an ancient relic to handle the sorting for the future. It's an admirable thought, grouping like minded individuals together, but a potential problem is that you cannot divide the human personality into only four temperaments. Even if the entirety of one's personality could be summed up in simple categories, division on that only is still imprecise. For example, there is a House called Ravenclaw that's said to hold all the intelligent, brilliant people, but if you evaluated the school as a whole not all of the intelligent people would be in there. Rather, the house holds those enthused for academic achievement and curiosity into the magical world."

"And I must admit," Gerard concluded, "I am not as familiar with the structure of Salem Witch's Institute. They may simply value students forming their own social networks beyond what occurs in the classroom." Much of Gerard's knowledge of other schools had been fostered by his contributions to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe[1] back in the late 80s.

1.

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