Clueless ━━ Fred Weasley

viii. Hogwarts... Beauxbatons...

       "Oh, no," says Briar, shaking her head. "I'm here because Beauxbatons would burn down if Maxime left me unsupervised." Cedric laughs, and she smiles. "But, anyway — the real Beauxbatons champion is Fleur," she says, putting an arm around her best friend. Fleur looks embarrassed. "Fleur's super smart, she's bound to be champion... Are you entering?"

       "Did it a couple minutes ago," says Cedric, looking nervous.

       "You'll be fine," says Briar.

       Fleur tells him, "At least you've put your name forward."

       Briar nods. "No harm in trying," she says. "And you're really good at literally everything, so why wouldn't you get picked?"

       "I guess," says Cedric, and the three of them start to walk towards the hall again. "What's Beauxbatons like, compared to here? Is it better there?"

       Briar doesn't know how to answer, but it's fine, because Fleur's already started to speak about how amazing Beauxbatons is. Briar stays quiet. She doesn't know her own stance on this question. She wants to say she prefers Hogwarts, of course she does, this place is still her home, but then... There's a little voice in the back of her head that goes, is it?

       "Well, I'll see you later," says Cedric. 

       "Good luck," says Briar.

       "Thanks," says Cedric. He looks at Fleur. "And you too!"

       Fleur beams at him. As he walks away, Fleur turns to Briar. "I like him..." says Fleur. "Why don't you fancy him instead?"

       "Instead of who?"

       Fleur rolls her eyes. "Malecrit, Briar," she mumbles, before she looks across at where Maxime's sitting. "I need to speak to Madame Maxime, I'll find you in a few minutes?"

       "You know where I'll be," says Briar with a smile, sitting down at the Gryffindor table, opposite Fred and George and next to Lee. "Morning, boys," she says, taking a couple slices of toast. A couple places down sit Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and she smiles at Harry. She feels bad for not seeing much of him lately...

       "This time tomorrow," says Fred, looking both smug and excited. "You'll be having breakfast with a champion..."

       "Uh, yeah, Fleur," says Briar, frowning as she butters her toast.

       "Not Fleur," says Fred.

       Briar looks across at George, as if for help, and George raises his eyebrows slightly. And then, the realisation hits Briar in the face — or not so much hit, but rather, smacks her, fully.

       "You're going to enter?" she says to Fred.

       "We all are," says Fred, who hasn't seemed to have noticed the horror on Briar's face. She glances at George and Lee, who look down at their breakfast, not wanting to get involved. Then she looks back at Fred, who looks over the moon (ha) at the idea, and really wants Briar to be just as excited. "We're going to use an ageing potion, and then we're going to put our names in... I bet we'll get it, one of us will."

       "You're not old enough," says Briar. "You don't know everything you need to know — you'll get yourself killed."

       Fred shakes his head. "Dumbledore said no one's going to die."

       "Uh, well, he doesn't expect an idiot to get into the tournament!"

       Fred frowns at her. "What?"