Delicate Magic ► George Weasley

four. woah, was that my heart?

So here's the thing with Iola: she didn't know how she ended up in ridiculous situations without a clue as to how she got there in the first place.

There were times when she was missing moments that ought to be clear, instances where she couldn't quite piece them together.

Like how she ended up in the carriage heading toward Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Iola couldn't remember packing her things or accepting Madame Maxime's invitation to act as a celebrity guest, but here she was tucked in between Sofie and Gerome, seated across from Fleur and Gabrielle. There were others around her, students mainly in their seventh year that wished to have a shot at the Triwizard Tournament — something that she could hardly remember, the details coming to her in vague pieces.

Still, she went with it, twirling her wand in her hand easily as she ignored Sofie's inspired flirting.

She shared a look with Gerome, rolling her eyes as he faked gagging.

It was ridiculous. This entire thing was ridiculous. She couldn't even compete. Neither could Sofie or Gerome and Gabrielle, but here they were, on their way to represent their school.

Iola knew, of course, that Fleur planned to enter her name, had spoken about it with purpose as she tried to persuade her friends to her side as she worked to discourage anyone else from entering just to aid her odds.

And she supported her friend without a doubt. There was no reason she shouldn't, but that didn't explain anything that she was missing.

Unless they had dragged her here while she was sleeping...

Shaking her head, Iola looks out the window to watch as the sea shifted to bright, bight sky as they soared above the clouds. She was perhaps one of the few to notice the slow descent as they zoomed over hills and dark forest, nearly close enough to touch the trees -- and then she saw it, the looming castle of a school that wasn't all that much larger than the palace type structure of Beauxbatons but appeared all the more darker with its grey stones and tall towers.

Yet it was still inviting, had to be with the number of students collected out front forming a mass of black with their dark robes.

"Heads up, clothing proper," her mother barked in crisp french. "Anyone not passing my inspection will not be allowed to step down!"

Immediately people were moving, sitting straighter in their seats with their wands at the ready as they worked to fix their carriage worn appearance. It was done with swift waves of their wands. Gabrielle seemed to be the only one unconcerned.

Iola wished her mother had stayed back to teach charms instead of joining them all the way out here.

Looking over herself, Iola smooths the fabric of the silk before idly securing her hat atop her dark waves. She refused to meet Aveline's gaze as she adjusts her cape around her shoulders.

"You look fine, Sofie," she hears Francois tell the girl with a chuckle, trying to hold her still in her seat. "Stop fidgeting."

"I cannot! Madame Bouchard is frightening and I wish to see the school."

"Mother is not frightening. Just sit still and she won't pay you any notice," Iola tells her, placing a hand on her friend's leg.

Gerome scoffs, still fiddling with his own cape. "Not frightening? She's terrifying!"

"Shut it! You aren't helping," she hissed, pressing the heel of her shoe harshly into his foot.

He cries out, knocking her with his elbow. "Shove it!"