Welcome to the sequel to my Harry Potter fan-fiction, the second book in the Esme Morris series. Hopefully, this book will be longer then the last... and oh yeah! If you haven't come across the series before, I'd suggest you check it out: Esme Morris and the Invisible Arrow.
Esme Morris and the Flaming Fortune Cookies
Esme Morris is back in her second year at Hogwarts! This time, Esme finds herself once more in the presence of the mysterious Draco Malfoy, and he sets her an... unusual task. This year she is a stowaway, and finds herself as the stunt-double for an underestimated french girl who's intentions may be darker then they seem...
Esme Morris is not, in any way, shape or form, your usual girl. After all, no witch could be, right? For Esme Morris is indeed a witch, one of the many things about this girl that are not visible on the surface.
But on this summer's day in mid August, she did indeed feel like an ordinary girl; she was sat in the park with her friend Jeremy Fisher, waiting to meet his new friends, the Polnied twins, for the very first time. She wasn't exactly nervous, as Esme isn't the type of girl who gets nervous, but she was certainly anticipating the moment they would meet.
It was around ten past two in the afternoon, as she held out a packet of chewing gum to Jeremy. "Want one?" she asked, chewing her own; Jeremy obliged and took one. Esme put it in her pocket as the Polnied's came around the corner and entered the park gates. Esme gulped.
She knew they were her own age, but they looked much older. They wore cool, up-to-date clothes and tacky jewellery; the girl's fiery ginger curls were held up in an elegant style. Esme glanced at Jeremy, wondering how he had come to be friends with these two copper-haired people, who seemed like celebs off TV.
"Ah, you must be Esme!" called the girl, extending her a hand. "Jeremy's told us about you- I'm Angelina Polnied, pleased to meet you." The greeting wasn't what Esme had expected. Angelina had a warm voice, with an odd mixture of a cockney and French accent. But she seemed nice, and that was enough for Esme.
"Pleased to meet you too!" she replied, smiling.
"Oh, I'm Brendon, by the way; Brendon Polnied," her brother introduced. As Esme greeted him, her eyes strayed past him to a girl who had entered the park at the same time as the twins. She looked to be about their age, with silvery-blonde hair and sapphire-blue eyes. She was reading a battered leather book, which Esme recognised; The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two. She frowned, as did Angelina; she had followed Esme's gaze.
"Oh, don't mind Aimee," she said carelessly in her oddly-accented voice. "She's our cousin; she's staying for the holidays. She's a bit strange, to be honest; Mum just made us bring her to get her out the house. All she ever does is sit in her room reading her spellbooks all day.
Esme, however, didn't answer; her heart was hammering in her chest. This was her chance to meet another witch outside of school, and a French witch no less. "Excuse me," she said to the twins and Jeremy, and walked over to sit on the bench beside the girl, who's eyes didn't stray from the page.
"Hi," Esme ventured, and the girl looked up.
"'Ello," she said in a French-accented voice.
"I'm Esme Morris," Esme offered her name. "Are you a witch, too?"
The girl nodded, and smiled. She put down her book and turned to look at Esme. "I'm Aimee Polnied," she said. "Nice to meet you, Esme."
"The muggles are your cousins?" Esme asked, and Aimee nodded.
"Yes; my magic comes from my mother's side. My uncle iz my Dad's brother, you zee, so when I'm 'ere it feels as if I'm ze only witch in the world. What about you?"
"I'm muggle-born," Esme said. "What school do you go to?"
"Beauxbatons," Aimee said with a grin. "'ave you 'eard what'z taking place at Beauxbaton's zis year?"
"No," said Esme in surprise, "What?"
"Ze Triwizard Tournament, zats what!" Aimee said. Seeing Esme's puzzled expression, she clapped her hands. "You 'aven't heard of it? Why, it is famous! It's a friendly competition between the three biggest European schools of wizardry- zat's 'Ogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons- so zat we can make friends and see who's ze best! I vould enter, but only sixth and seventh years can. Too bad you vont be allowed to come and visit Beauxbatons; it really iz a beautiful place. You zee, ve're right on top of zis cliff, overlooking ze sea. And beneath us iz zis cove, and ze beach opens right out of it... yes, beautiful!"
Esme smiled sadly. "It's a shame, isn't it? I'd love to come and see your school, plus it would give me a chance to practise my French."
"You zpeak French? Tu parlor francais?" Aimee asked in excitement.
"Oui!" Esme agreed, and her original reason for coming to the park slipped her mind completely. That evening, she went home, buzzing with excitement.
That Polnied girl is awesome! she thought. Then, Zat Polnied girl iz awezome! in a French-accented voice.
A week after meeting Aimee (who had, unfortunately, gone back to France four days later) Esme was due at Diagon Alley to get her school stuff for second year. In all honesty, she had hoped she might have been able to go with the Weasly's again; unfortunately, that was not the case. Her parents had dropped her off in London and said they were off for a look around the sights while Esme ventured into the Wizarding world- alone this time. Rose had told her there were places where you could change Muggle Money for Galleons (and, of course, Sickles and Knuts), so Mr and Mrs Morris had given their daughter fifty pounds, hoping it would be enough.
Coming out of Gringotts with her purse full of coins, Esme looked around, wondering where to go first. She decided to go to Madame Malkin's first, as her school robes were now inches too short. There wasn't anybody else in the shop when she arrived, so Madame Malkin was able to fit her without a moment's wait. While she was being fitted, Esme found herself chatting comfortably with the elderly witch.
"Ah, yes, Hogwarts! Back in my day I was quite the troublemaker, let me tell you! Nobody quite expected it from a Hufflepuff.. Say, what house are you in, dear?"
"Ravenclaw," Esme replied. Madame Malkin looked up, her eyes shining.
"Ah, yes! 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure'!" Esme tried not to shudder; those exact words had been carved into the tiara she had found in the garden last year. She remembered the way they had changed her appearance, and the man afterwards... What had been his name again? My name is not important right now; best save it for a rainy day.
"There, you're all done now, dear," Madame Malkin said, handing Esme a package with her robes enclosed. "That'll be four Galleons, seven sickles and five knuts." Esme payed dutifully and then left the shop, checking her list for the books she needed. She scanned over them quickly.
Second-Year Students Will Require, it read,
The Standard Book Of Spells, Grade Two by Miranda Goshawk
A Hefty Guide To What You'll Find by Lizabeth Hefty
Dark Arts and Defence Against Them by Peter Roldhinge
Transfiguartion For Moderate Students by Adam Simber
She decided to go to Flourish and Blotts for her books, before going to the Apothecary to stock up her potions set. Then, satisfied, she decided to pay a visit to Rose's Uncle George and set off for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It wasn't as crowded as last year, but the joke shop was still extremely popular. Esme decided to go and get some more invisibility powder, as it came in useful last year and may do again.
While she was looking about the upper floor for the shimmery pale blue powder, she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. "Esme Morris!" a voice said, "How great to see you again!"
Esme turned, grinning. "Hello, George," she greeted cheerfully.
"I've got something for you," George said, and fumbled in his pocket before bringing out a small vial. Inside it contained a shimmery white liquid, like fake snow. "Antidote to the prototype I gave you last year. I've decided not to put it up for sale, though; much too risky. Drink this and the 'Sight' should wear off after a couple of minutes."
Esme stared at him in astonishment. "Are you kidding?" she asked. "There's no way I'm giving this up!"
"Really?" George asked. Esme nodded.
"Really," she said earnestly. "Say, you wouldn't happen to need a tester for something similar, would you?"
"Actually, now that you mention it..." he said, scratching his head. "Follow me," he said, beckoning her to a set of stairs labelled PRIVATE! Staff Only!. Curious, she followed him down to a large room full of test-tubes and vials, all full of bubbling, smoking or dormant liquids.
"Welcome to my inventing room," George said proudly. Esme giggled.
"I feel like I've just stepped inside Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory," she laughed.
"You what? Oh, never mind. Here it is!" George picked up a vial from a row of them. Inside was a shimmery silver liquid, rather like the 'Sight' potion from last year but a different colour.
"This," George told her, "Should allow you to see through walls and the like. Haven't tried it out yet, you'll have to send me a letter when you try it... or get word to me of which ward you're on in Saint Mungo's." He laughed, and Esme smiled, pocketing it.
"Thanks, George," she said, making her way towards the exit into the store.
"Uncle George, dear," George told her. "Geez, Esme, you're practically family now!"
"Okay... Uncle George," she said, waving and slipping out of the shop- not before stealing several vials of Invisability Powder, which would come in useful.
It was the first day of September, and Esme had only just got onto the train; she was closing the door behind her, watching breathlessly as King's Cross Station slid out of sight. She looked around, wondering if she could find Grace or the Weasley's here; sure enough, she soon spotted Rose, leading two younger people into a compartment.
"Hey!" she called, "Rose!"
Rose spun around, bushy ginger hair flying; she broke into a grin as Esme made her way over struggling with the weight of her trunk. She waved, telling the two smaller people to stay there. However, the first of the younger kids stepped forwards; Esme recognised Hugo and waved.
"Hey Hugo!" she greeted cheerfully. "Looking forwards to your first day?"
"You bet!" Hugo said, and pulled a familiar wrapping out of his pocket. "Chocolate frog?" he asked, offering it to her. Esme laughed and took it.
"Do you ever go anywhere without them? Hey, who are you?" she asked the other member of their party she had seen, a small, dark-ginger-haired girl. The girl smiled easily, tossing her red licks out of her face.
"I'm Lily Potter," she announced in a confident voice. "Who're you?"
"Esme Morris, pleased to meet you," Esme replied. Lily looked at her with searching brown eyes.
"Oh," she said. "I've heard of you. You were the girl who saved my cousin last year. It was very brave of you," she added, and Esme found herself blushing. "My brother doesn't like you," Lily continued, in a voice that made Esme feel as if the girl were reading out facts. "He says there's nothing good that will come of you and some things are best staying hidden."
"Oh," said Esme, not quite sure how to reply. As if on cue, a boy appeared from the compartment behind Lily; a familiar boy with messy black hair and brown eyes hidden behind glasses. James Potter put his hand on Lily's shoulder, looking around.
"Is everything al- Oh," he stated, seeing Esme. "It's you."
"Uh, yeah," Esme said. "Er... see you later, then, Rose?" she asked, before turning and hurrying into a different carriage as fast as her luggage would allow it. She let out a squeak of excitement recognising the two people who were stood in the middle of the carriage, greeting each other by an open compartment door.
"Grace!" she cried, "Euan!"
Her two best friends turned to face her; their eyes lit up and their faces broke into smiles. "Esme!" Grace cried, and flung herself at the blonde. The two girls hugged for a moment before separating, and after greeting Euan, the three of them made their way into a compartment together to sit out the rest of the journey. As they neared Hogsmeade Station, Esme began to notice some slight differences about Euan. He looked gaunt, and in his eyes, beneath the happiness, was a gleam of insanity and he looked haunted. Esme didn't question him, though, and nobody else knew him well enough to see the difference. But he was no longer the solemn, sun-tanned boy whom she'd mistaken for a centaur the previous year. Now he looked completely human.
When they got off the train, wearing their wizarding robes, they followed the rest of the school to a line of carriages that Rose had told her were pulled by invisible creatures called 'thestrels'. The three of them entered one and it set off for Hogwarts.
It wasn't long before Esme caught sight of the castle. A slight gasp escaped her lips; over the summer her memory must've faded, as it looked grander than ever before. She felt a thrill of happiness; Hogwarts seemed, to her, a second home.
They arrived earlier than they had done last year, and took their seats at the Ravenclaw table minutes before Professor Longbottom came in, followed by a line of first years. She caught Hugo's eye and gave him a thumbs up, and returned Lily's smile. She didn't understand the young girl one bit. But she did know that the two would be placed in Gryffindor; ten minutes later, as the sorting ended, she was proved right.
After the feast McGonagall stood up. The room quieted, and they all turned to watch her. After she made the usual announcements (at the one about staying out of the forest Esme was sure the Professor was glaring her and Euan's way), she made the announcement Esme had been waiting for- so had, she gathered, a lot of other people.
"This year marks the end of another five years, and the Triwizard Tornament will be held once more. This year it is taking place at Beuaxbatons. However, only sixth- and seventh-years will be allowed to come to Beauxbatons with the school, and only those wishing to contend should sign up. You will still attend your lessons, and will sit your NEWTs in July when we return. No student below sixth year will be allowed on the trip." At this there were loud complaints, but the room quieted as McGonagall held up her hand. "You are all excused," she said, and people from all houses made their way out of the room.
Esme, Grace and Euan made their way up to Ravenclaw tower (Euan, it seemed, had had a private sorting). The phoenix sculpture watched them, before saying a riddle.
"Give me food and I shall live; give me water and I shall die. What am I?" it asked.
"A fire," Grace answered; the wall behind the phoenix slid open for them to pass. Esme took a deep breath, looking around. She loved Ravenclaw tower. In the centre of the common room, where they stood now, was a large, bronze statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, a crown on her head and her motto engraved on the stand where she stood. Around this were arranged different chairs and seats and tables, all in organised disarray. Opposite the door was a large fireplace, taking up almost the entire portion of wall. On either side were the two staircases that led to the dormitories. The room was decked in the house's colours, dark blue and bronze. Esme beamed as she took the stairs two at a time, turning only to bid goodnight to Euan.
They reached the first floor of girls rooms (there were three on each floor). A changeable sign on the wall read that this floor belonged to the current fifth-years. Above it were the floors for the current sixth- and seventh- years, and above that the empty floor reserved for first years. Above that was their own floor, the floor they would keep until the end of their Hogwarts lives. The room Grace and Esme shared with Emmeline, Janice and Janie was the one to the left; it was empty as the girls walked in. They changed (half-way through the process their roommates came in and did likeways) and then climbed into the same beds they'd had last year.
Esme once again left the curtains open a crack, watching the full moon float in the clear sky above Gryffindor tower. Then she sat up; she could see someone looking out the window of the other tower! Curiously, she pressed her face to the window, but couldn't make out who it was. Sighing, she got back into bed. However, as she drifted off to sleep, she realised that the face may have been watching her...
The first day of lessons was what you would call, well, normal.
They had double potions with Professor Sting and Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Oswald. Esme quite liked Professor Oswald; sure, the woman was a loon, and kicked you out of class early, but she was a good teacher. Last year, Esme had learned a lot about defensive magic.
"This year," Professor Oswald announced, "We will be learning about Dark Creatures and defence against them. That means Hinkypunks, Werewolves, Vampires and Boggarts. Those are just a few to name a few. Next lesson I may show you a Boggart- does anyone know what a Boggart is?"
Quite a few people's hands shot up- including Grace's- but Esme's stayed down. She hardly had any knowledge of the magical world, which made her at a disadvantage- in her opinion, at least.
"Yes, Grace?" Professor Oswald asked.
"It's a shape-shifter that will take the form of what scares us most. They like to live in dark, enclosed spaces," Grace said with utmost confidence. Professor Oswald nodded.
"Correct, Grace. It does indeed take the form of something we hate. Has anyone ever come across one before?"
Grace, Janice, Aiden Prior and Louis Wall raised their hands. Professor Oswald nodded at Grace.
"Where did you come across this Boggart, and what form did it take?" the teacher asked. Grace blushed red.
"Um, well, I was five years old and we'd been away on holiday for the summer and when we got back there was a Boggart under my bed," Grace said awkwardly.
"I see," Professor Oswald said seriously; it was all Esme could do not to burst out laughing. "And what for did it take?"
"My old next-door neighbours dog?" It was a question, not a statement, but Esme knew it was the truth. The class burst out laughing, and Grace slunk down in her seat, blushing furiously.
After the afternoon's lessons- History of Magic with Professor Lovegood (who was crazier than Oswald, in Esme's opinion) and Herbology with Professor Longbottom (whom Esme had grown to like after the mud-fight he had caught her and Grace having the year prior).
They'd also gotten a considerable amount of homework- a foot on Devil's Snare from Professor Longbottom, a foot and a half on great moment in wizarding history from Professor Lovegood and half a foot on Boggarts from Oswald. It was this last one that Esme decided to do first, as they met in the Library after school had finished.
Boggarts, Esme scrawled, Take the form of your greatest fear. They become Household pests, but getting rid of them is not just about maintenance but about facing your fears. If you have the courage to face your biggest fear, you have the courage to face anything- whatever it may be.
At this point Esme looked up and caught a pair of small brown eyes watching her eagerly.
"Lily?' she called, unsure, "What are you doing?"
Lily shrugged. "I think... oh, never mind," she said quickly, turned on her heel and walked out. Esme stared after her, wondering what was going on.
Sure enough, as promised, within the week the second-year Ravenclaw students found themselves facing a Boggart. Esme watched fro the sidelines; in front of Janie it became a black hole, while before Aiden Prior it was a headless ghoul of some sort. Finally the Boggart came around the circle to where Grace was stood, trembling.
Esme watched in interest as it hesitated a moment before becoming a large dog. It looked rather like a German Shepard, but was much bigger, and had teeth like a saber-toothed tiger's. Grace stared at in in horror for a moment, before raising her trembling arm and crying out.
"Reddikulus!" The dog became a tiny white poodle; Grace seemed to melt with relief. Then the puppy trotted over to Esme and waited at her feet a moment. Before long, however, it vanished; even Esme couldn't see it, and she stared at the space where it had been in horror.
Then the boggart must have moved on because a giant spider appeared before Gordon Farthing. Esme stood there, feeling numb with shock. What on earth had happened to her Boggart?
After class Professor Oswald called for Esme to stay behind.
"Professor?" Esme asked timidly, "What happened to my Boggart?"
Professor Oswald sighed. "I have waited a long time, Esme, for someone like you to enter my classroom. Never one so young, though... but maybe that's a good thing..."
"What do you mean?" Esme asked, feeling slightly irritated; this conversation was going nowhere.
"Esme, your Boggart didn't disappear. It simply became nothing. Esme, you fear nothing. You believe that the only thing to fear is fear itself."
"That's it?" Esme asked in disbelief. "But loads of people think that- don't they?"
"Esme, that's just it," Professor Oswald said with a sigh. "People say that, but they don't mean it. Because up until now, I would have said that everybody fears something. But you only fear in the moment. Something scares you, but once you know you're not in danger, it no longer does."
"But- fear is just an illusion!" Esme protested. Professor Oswald laughed.
"That's the type of thinking that makes you who you are. You keep that sort of mind- and keep your mind open- who knows what you can achieve?" She smiled. "Go on then, Esme. You really are quite extraordinary."
With that, she turned and exited the room into her office. Esme hesitated in the silent classroom a minute later before following her classmates out.
*
September turned into October. Nothing vaguely unusual or exciting happened- not by Hogwarts standard, at least. And so, on the evening of the thirtieth of October, Esme found herself at the Ravenclaw table, waiting to hear who had been Shortlisted to go to Beauxbatons. Only sixth- and seventh-years had been allowed to sign up, but the whole school remained in the Great Hall after dinner to hear who had been chosen.
"The attenders from sixth year will be as listed," McGonagall announced, "Domonic Wood, Lisa Keyne, Kirk Juan and Fred Weasely." Clapping filled the hall as the Shortlisted students made their way up to the front, and stood there, grinning. McGonagall cleared her throat and the room quietened.
"Students from Seventh Year will be as follows," she announced. "Emma Karabell, Matthew Byron, Lisa Kemp and Victoire Weasley." More clapping followed as the students made their way up to the front. On the instruction of Professor Longbottom they held hands and bowed; the hall burst into cheers as Esme, Grace and Euan slipped out of the doors.
"Shame we can't go," Grace said with a sigh.
"It would have been fun," Euan agreed.
"Oh well," Esme ended, as they entered the common room. She yawned. "I think I'm gonna go to bed. You two coming?"
"Sure," Grace replied, and they bid goodnight to Euan before climbing the stairs. "Shame, isn't it Esme?" Grace asked. "I mean, imagine competing in it..."
"Yeah," Esme said with a sigh. "It's never gonna happen, Grace."
She had no idea how wrong she was.
It was early; actually, by Esme's watch, it was just past five am. Rubbing her eyes, the small girl got dressed, grabbed her bag and went down into the common room. As always whenever she got up this early, it was empty. Deserted. Not wanting to stay in the dim room, she crept out into the corridor and decided to go on a walk around the castle to clear her mind.
She was on the fifth floor when she noticed a door ajar. Upon entering, she saw trunks, all locked up and labelled; she realised this was the luggage of the Shortlisted Students. One single trunk was empty and unlabelled, covered in dust as if it wasn't supposed to be there.
"What are you doing in here?" a voice snapped; Esme whirled around. Watching her was someone she recognised. That thin face, white-blonde hair and grey eyes... she was looking at the man known as Draco Malfoy.
"Master Malfoy, sir!" she gasped, remembering that half-forgotten day on which she had met him. the man eyes her with contempt and interest. Then he jerked his head at the open, unmarked trunk.
"Get in there," he told her. "You're not to make a sound. Nobody must know."
"Why?" she asked in confusion; he glowered at her.
"Just do as I say, girl! In, now," he glanced around, "Before anybody comes."
Confused and nervous, Esme climbed into the trunk and used the leather lining to pull it closed. She could hear the Malfoy man marking the trunk and locking it. Then she heard his footsteps, echoing away down the hall.
That's when the panic began to settle in. The trunk was extremely small; she had to lie on her side, curled up with her knees pressed into her chest. The journey would take a day, and she was going to be trapped in here for the most of it. What if she ran out of oxygen? Her breaths came short and quick.
After about an hour and a half of worry and uncomfort, Esme heard footsteps. For a moment she thought it was someone, come to get her out; then she realised it was Filch, come to take the trunks down to the carriage they were using to arrive. Rose had told Esme about it; apparently they were going to be arriving on a larger version of the thestrel carriages. And esme would be trapped with the baggage.
Esme felt the trunk move, and managed to look through a tiny gap in the side that was her only light source. She was hauled out of the school and into the baggage compartment- which was underneath the proper carriage she realised, only just holding back a groan. This was really going to be uncomfortable.
By the time it had reached seven am, the students and teachers were in the carriage. Esme heard Filch yell, "All clear!" and heard the baggage compartment door slam shut. She was thrown into darkness.
*
Esme woke some hours later. She was uncomfortable, hungry and needed the bathroom badly. However, she was trapped, and there wasn't enough room for her to try grabbing her wand, let alone using magic. In the end she just bit her lip and bore it, though it was by far the worst journey ever. After what seemed like forever, she fell back into a light and fitful sleep.
*
When Esme woke again it was to the sound of cheering. She was confused for only a moment, before realising they must've arrived at Beauxbatons. The trunk she was held in was dragged out of the carriage and up to the castle; peering through the gap, Esme had to stifle a gasp.
Beauxbatons looked like a proper fairytale castle. It was perched on top of a cliff and shimmered in the south of France sunlight. It was a bluish-purple-white colour, with three towers. It looked smaller than Hogwarts, but twice as grand.
Finally Esme was dragged inside and up the stairs to a room where Hogwarts students and staff were finding their stuff. When all the students had left, Professor McGonagall was left alone in the room with Professor Flitwick, whom she had brought with her. The woman was frowning.
"Who's trunk is that, do you think?" she asked. Professor Flitwick shrugged.
"It's locked," he squeaked, "And unmarked. Maybe if I- Alohomora."
Esme heard a clicking and then the lid was wrenched upwards. Esme sat up, blinking in the bright sunlight and feeling queasy after being trapped for so long. McGonagall and Flitwick were staring at her in surprise and fury.
"Esme Morris!" McGonagall snapped. "Explain yourself!"
Esme bit her lip; instantly a lie sprung to mind. "I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk. I was walking past a room when I noticed the door was open. When I went in someone snuck up behind me and shoved me into an empty trunk and locked me in there," she said.
"Do you know who that someone was?" McGonagall asked; Esme shook her head.
"I've no idea; I only caught a glimpse of them as they shut the lid. They were older than me- probably a fifth- or sixth- year. I did see that they had brown hair, though."
McGonagall sighed. "Very well, Miss Morris. You will have to miss the feast, but I'm sure the house-elves wont mind if you ask for some food. I'll escort you to the Hogwarts wing and show you your room."
Esme nodded and followed McGonagall. She was limping, as being locked in a trunk for a day had left her with a considerable amount of cramp. McGonagall led her out of the room and down the corridor; at the end was a two-way. McGonagall gestured to the right-hand passage, and the two went through some heavy oak doors. In this part of the castle it was as pretty as the rest, but had a lot more windows. On each side of the narrow hall were seven doors- fourteen in total. McGonagall opened one of the doors; it was second to last on the left.
"My room is next to yours, and on the other side is Victoire Weasley. Enjoy your stay, Miss Morris; now, if you'll excuse me, I'm running late for the feast." She left Esme in the doorway, not noticing how the young girl gaped in astonishment.
The room was painted light blue. Opposite the door was a window overlooking the sea, and next to it a white bedside table with two draws and a lamp. Next to the table was a single bed and at the end of the bed was a door. Upon opening the door she found a small en-suite bathroom, with a white toilet, sink and a bath carved into the floor. Opposite the bed was a chest of oak draws, containing six of them in total. The floor was white stone and covered in a rug the same colour as the room. Esme gaped at it.
Then, grinning, she shut the door into the corridor and flung herself down on the bed. It was soft and bouncy, and she lay back on the blue sheets, placing her bag on the bedside table.
If this was what Beauxbatons would be like, then maybe being a stowaway wouldn't be so bad after all.
Esme was woken at half past seven the following morning by owls rapping at her window. Grumbling to herself, she opened the window and let three ruffled, tired-looking birds inside. They swooped around the room before landing on her chest of draws; Esme took a letter to the first and passed it a scarp of bread from the food McGonagall had brought her last night.
She looked at the letter and recognised Grace's handwriting; with a groan she realised her friends must've found out what had happened. Oh, here we go, she thought, opening the letter and beginning to read.
Esme,
What the hippogriff do you think you are doing?! If you had plans to get to the TriWizard, you could've just told us- there was no need to go and lock yourself inside a trunk. Seriously. And also, can you get the autograph of the winning champion for me? Thanks,
Grace.
After that there was a short space and then some more writing, this time in a different hand.
Esme,
I, for one, actually believe your story. Though, if Grace is right and you locked yourself inside a trunk, wouldn't it have been easier to use that invisibility powder of yours? Have fun, and, more importantly, stay safe.
-Euan.
Esme smiled and placed the letter on her bed; the owl that had delivered it had flown off. Then she turned to the next owl, fed it some bread, took the letter and watched it swoop away. Then she opened the envelope and read it.
Dear Esme,
ARE YOU CRAZY?! Who, in their right mind, would lock themselves in a trunk just to go to France?! Oh, and Hugo says you're awesome for trying that and it's a shame you're not in Gryffindor.
Sincerely,
Rose (Weasley)
When she had fed the last owl, Esme opened the final letter and read it.
Dear Esme,
The school has told us what happened. They've also said you may not be home for Christmas, in which case we will forward your presents on to you. We'll miss you,
Your loving parents.
Smiling, Esme put away the letters, closed the window and got dressed. When done, she made her way out into the corridor and bumped into somebody. She looked up and saw a girl smiling at her; she wore a Gryffindor badge and tie, Esme noticed. She had blonde hair with a bronze sheen and big, blue eyes. She looked to be about seven year and she was positively beaming at Esme.
"Oh, hello? Are you Esme Morris? Well, you must be, you're the only second-year here. Professor McGonagall asked me to look after you- I'm Victoire Weasley, by the way."
Esme blinked. "You're related to Rose and Hugo?' she asked. Victiore nodded.
"They're my cousins on my father's side. Come on, I'll take you down to the Grand Hall." Esme followed Victoire out of the Hogwarts suite and down two flights of stairs. The whole castle seemed to be carved out of some strange, smooth stone that appeared blue, purple and white in different lights. Esme wondered if it was some sort of magic.
"Ah, here we are," Victoire said, leading Esme into a large hall. It was slightly smaller than the one at Hogwarts, but set out roughly the same. However, instead of house tables, there was a large square of tables with a gap that could have fit two tables in each end. In the middle of the square was large open space where the teachers sat on a raised platform, on a smaller version of the tables, except on the inside facing out.
"The second-years sit over there," Victoire told Esme, pointing. "Why don't you go sit with them?" Esme nodded and walked towards a large group of girls her age. The Beauxbatons students wore a blue, suit-like outfit as uniform instead of black robes like the Hogwarts students; Esme was aware she stood out like a house-elf among goblins.
As Esme neared she noticed that there were two or three small groups or pairs of girls, and in the centre of them was a larger group. Esme recognised Aimee and waved; the young girl looked startled, but gestured for Esme to take a seat nearby. Esme did so.
"Esme!" Aimee cried. "Vot are you doing 'ere?"
"There was a... baggage problem," Esme said, not really explaining much at all. But Aimee looked delighted.
"Ah, eet is so great to see you again!"
Esme noticed that there were several foreign foods on the table. She recognised croissants and French toast, but not much else. There were lots of bread-based foods, something that looked like an almond tart, some sort of meat, and what looked like some sort of seeded cupcake. Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, she ate several slices of French toast. She noticed that the other side of the square across from them contained only boys, while the side she sat on was a row of girls.
"Are you always split up?" Esme asked. Aimee nodded.
"Yes, but it makes Quiddich very interesting," she said. "'Ave you seen the students from Durmstrang yet? They're over zere," she added, pointing at a group of boys on the over end of the boy's table. They all wore thick cloaks, Esme noticed. Suddenly, a large bell rang, and students departed their seats.
"Come on," Aimee called to Esme, "Maybe you can come to Charms weeth us?" Esme followed, but they were intercepted by McGonagall.
"Esme, you're to come with me; you shall read your books and practise theory while Professor Flitwick and I teach the older years," she said.
"But miss!" Aimee called. "Can't Esme come weeth us to lesson?" McGonagall shook her head.
"Sorry, Miss Polnied, but Esme cannot speak French-"
"I can!" Esme interrupt. "I speak French perfectly well- my cousin is twenty-six and her husband is French- he taught me."
McGonagall sighed. "The curriculum is different here; I would suggest you find a nice spot in the grounds to practise."
Esme sighed but nodded; bidding goodbye to Aimee and her friends she turned and walked out the foyer doors. She wandered around the grassy clifftop for a while before selecting a patch of grass beneath an oak tree, overlooking the fields of France.
Halfway through chapter five of A Hefty Guide, Esme head a noise and looked up; watching her from behind a nearby tree was a small girl. She looked to be a first year, with long, dark brown hair and pretty almond-shaped, dark brown eyes. As Esme met her Gaze the girl let out a surprised squeak and ran away. Esme wondered briefly what that had all been about, before turning back to the book. That girl reminded her, strangely, of Lily Potter.
The following day Esme was walking out of breakfast with Aimee and her friends again. Aimee's friends were all overly pretty, friendly and confident. They were perfectionists to the last detail- and somehow, Esme started wishing she could be as perfect as them too.
"Au reviour!" Esme called after them as they went to class.
"Bye!" Aimee's best friend, Eldeen. Eldeen was also known as Needle (her name spelt backwards), which Esme thought was rather clever. She waved as they headed down to the school's stables, when she heard a snort behind her.
She turned to see a girl sat on the steps behind her, looking after Aimee and her friends in disdain. She looked to be about sixteen, with long, dark brown hair and blueish-grey eyes. Those cold eyes flitted up to Esme.
"So," she said, with no indication of a French accent, "You're friends with the Queen Bees, are you?" she asked. Esme frowned at her.
"Excuse me?" she asked in confusion. The girl stood up, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.
"You know, 'The Queen Bees'. That's what I call them. Wandering around, acting like they own the place. Making life hard for all those who stand out or are different."
Esme frowned. "Aimee seemed all right to me when I met her in the holidays," she told the girl, whom she was beginning to find quite rude, in all honestly. The girl shrugged.
"Don't let me tell you what to think," the girl said. "I'm Laura Mallard, by the way. Nice to meet you." She extended a hand, and Esme shook it.
"Esme Morris," she said. "What year are you in?" she asked, and Laura grinned.
"Sixth. I was actually going to go put my name in the Goblet of Fire, actually- coming?"
Esme shrugged. "Eh, why not? I've got nothing better to do. Hey, shouldn't you be at lessons?" she added. Laura shook her head.
"Nah, I bunk off all the time. I think the teachers have stopped caring, to be honest. Say, what year are you in?"
"Second," Esme told her. Laura let out a low whistle.
"Well, why'd they let you come, then?" she asked. Esme blushed.
"There was a- problem with the luggage," she said, and Laura didn't question her any further.
They reached a large, airy room just off the entrance hall. It had a domed roof and benches all around the edges, covered in velvet cushions. On the floor was a large, patterned rug, and one wall was made entirely of glass. In the centre of this room, on a raised podium, stood the Goblet of Fire. Victoire had told Esme that this was what chose the champions for the tournament, and the champions would be chosen tonight at dinner.
From her pocket, Laura pulled a scrap of parchment that read Laura Mallard - Beauxbatons, folded it and threw it into the flames. Esme watched from just outside the age line, not wanting whatever trap had been put on it this year (Rose had told her a funny story about her uncles Fred and George when they tried to fool it and ended up sprouting beards).
Laura stepped back to stand beside Esme, her face stony and determined. "There!" she said triumphantly, "Just let them try and stop me!"
As they left the room, Esme turned to Laura. "What made you want to take part?" she asked. Everybody, after all, had a reason- whether it was the fame or the money, it was still a reason. Laura stayed silent a few moments before answering.
"To show them that I can do something. That I'm not totally worthless," she said at last.
"Who?" Esme asked. "Aimee and her friends?"
"Everybody, in general," Laura said with a sigh. "I have no friends, the teachers have given up on me, the students pick on me, my parents hate me and I'm stuck here."
"Why would your parents hate you?" Esme asked in confusion.
"Well... my father's a wizard, you see, but my mother was a Muggle. We had our own house in London, they loved each other, they loved me- we were happy. But then, when I was nine, my mother died. After her death, my father didn't go to work, instead homeschooling me- he says I remind him of her. Then, two years ago, when I was fifteen, my father re-married. They're both widowed pure-bloods, you see, and maybe that brought them closer... I don't know. All I know is that we moved here to her mansion, and that she's awful. At the first chance he got, my father shipped me away to boarding school and we hardly ever see each other anymore. I hate my step-mother and I hate my step-siblings. They're awful, Esme- call me a freak and say I can't do anything right. This is my chance to prove them wrong."
Esme looked at laura sympathetically, then did a double take. "Laura, your hair," she spluttered, "It's gone green!"
"What?" Laura asked, sounding as if she were trying not to cry, "Oh yeah!" Instantly, her hair turned back to the brown it had been before. laura's face crumpled up and then returned to normal.
"What was that?" Esme asked in confusion. Laura's eyes lit up.
"Oh, you don't know, do you? I'm a Metamorphmagus- it means I can change my appearance at will."
"Really?' Esme asked, "That's so cool!" Laura laughed.
"I suppose it is!" she said. "Here- watch!" And before Esme's eyes, she turned into the little dark-haired girl Esme had seen watching her the day before.
"Hey!" she complained, "You were spying on me!" Laura grinned apologetically, turning back into the grey-eyed brunette again.
"Sorry about that," Laura said, "I guess I was just curious." Esme shrugged.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "Do you know what? I have a feeling you and I are going to be great friends." She grabbed Laura's hand, and the brunette squeezed it gratefully.
"Yeah," she agreed, "Me too."
That night, Esme sat with Aimee and the other second-year girls again. There were whispers running around the room; Esme listened in to the conversation between Aimee, Needle, Christelle, Laetitia and Sylvie.
"Well, I think that Grigore 'Erin will be champion for Durmstrang," Needle was saying passionately in French.
"No, it'll be Mirela Daygreaves, for sure," Laetitia argued. "And Basile Nontise for Beauxbatons."
"Basile?" Aimee asked. "You're joking, right? It'll definitely be Claudine 'Arris."
Nobody got time to reply as Madame Prince, the headmistress, stood up to address the gathered students. Since everybody could speak English, and the tournament was set up by the English, that was the language she spoke in.
"Friends," she greeted, "Now ze time 'as come for us to greet our champions." As she spoke, the fire in the Goblet turned red and out shot a slip of parchment. Madame Prince opened it, and her eyes scanned the page before she read it aloud.
"Ze champion for Durmstrang will be... Grigore 'Erin. Grigore, please make you way out of that door..." Madame Prince waved a hand at a door that had just appeared in the wall. Grigore Herin stood and walked towards it. He was broad-shouldered and large, Esme could see that much; his hair was shaved to an off-colour stubble and his eyes were dark. His face was stony as he walked towards the door. Esme got the impression he was highly skilled in more ways than one. The cheering and clapping died down as he passed through the door and all eyes returned back to the Goblet of Fire.
The flames once more turned red and Madame Prince once again grabbed it. "Ze champion for 'Ogwarts," she called, "Will be Victoire Weasley." Esme found herself clapping as the older girl made her way to the door. She liked Victoire, and anyway, she was Rose's cousin. Rose would be pleased.
"And finally," Madame Prince called, grabbing the last piece of parchment, "The Beauxbatons champion will be-" She stopped, and her eyes scanned the parchment again. When she finally spoke, her voice was taut with disbelief. "Laura Mallard?"
Every eye turned to Laura. The sixth-year girl stood up, her hair now blonde and her eyes bright blue. Her face remained the same, however. She was expressionless as she walked towards the door, but Esme spotted her clenched hands by her side and knew her friend would be shaking with excitement. She felt she ought to clap, like she had done with Victoire, but felt she shouldn't break the silence.
When the Metamorphmagus passed through the door, and Madame Prince dismissed them, mutters began to run through the students. Esme walked a little way behind Aimee and co- or the 'Queen Bees', as Laura called them- as to hear their conversation. Aimee was shaking with anger as she spoke.
"How dare she put 'er name in! She izn't even a part of our school- what right does she 'ave to represent it?"
"She might be alright, really," Sylvie offered shyly. Needle turned to their silvery-blonde-haired friend, raising her eyebrows in sceptical disbelief.
"Really, Sylv, you're going to go there? That girls nothing but trouble."
Esme walked in the other direction, heading towards the door that the champions had gone through. After ten minutes- by which time the hall had cleared- Grigore Herin exited the room. He stalked past Esme, not seeing her- two minutes later, Laura followed. She was breathless and shaking, her light blue eyes shining with excitement.
"Oh, Esme, I don't believe it!" she cried. "It's incredible- and the first trial is at the end of November! It's my turn to shine now- my chance to prove them wrong," this last part was spoken with fierce determination. Esme smiled.
"See you tomorrow, then, Laura? We can practise, if you like..." Laura nodded.
"That'd be great! Bye!" After hugging Esme out of sheer joy, Laura skipped off, humming to herself.
A moment later Victoire left the room, looking flushed. She grinned at Esme. "You didn't have to wait for me, you know- but thanks anyway," she said. "Come on, let's go up to the Hogwarts Suite."
"Do you know what the first task will be?" Esme asked. Victoire shook her head.
"No idea, but it's gonna be fun!"
