I'm a Young Soul in This Very Strange World (Cecelia)

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So, this was Hogwarts. As the doors swung open to the school’s Great Hall, Chantal took a breath and kept her gaze ahead, maintaining her focus on the table where the Hogwarts teachers were sitting. In her peripheral vision, she could see the tables full of students in dark robes and hear their hushed whispers. To them, the Beauxbatons delegation must have been a sight to behold, and why shouldn’t it have been? They were some of the best and brightest students that Beauxbatons had to offer, Chantal reminded herself; that was why they were there. She flashed a smile to the nearest table of Hogwarts students, filled with overwhelming pride in her own school—and herself, for having gotten such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

After she and her classmates were dismissed from their formation, Chantal walked back down the way she had come to where there were seats left available. Above her, she noticed, there appeared to be some sort of enchantment on the ceiling, which seemed to reflect the night sky outside. Sitting down at the end of one of the four long tables, she took a moment to admire it before looking at the selection of food available. There was plenty to eat, though most of it didn’t look appetizing in the slightest. Seeing that Hogwarts had had the courtesy to provide some dishes that were more familiar to its visiting students, she turned her head to the Hogwarts student sitting next to her, whose face she could not see.

“Excuse me,” she began in hesitant English, hoping that she could get the girl's attention. “The ratatouille, you can pass it to me?”

@cecelia

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The fact that Beauxbatons students had come to Hogwarts was strange for Cecelia – she had grown up with some of these people, and she couldn’t help but wonder if any of them recognized her anymore. Probably not, considering that they had all grown up in the meantime. Even without the added benefit of puberty cloaking her, Cecelia was stick-thin, a look that she had never tried out at Beauxbatons. She didn’t like it, feeling like she was about to wither away, but eating was an unappealing task. There was nothing that looked good, and when she did try to shove bites of food down, she thought she was going to gag.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, pretty much alone at the end of it, Cecelia made a show of picking at her food. From the High Table, it would look like she was eating it, and that was the only thing she needed to accomplish. If she could fool her teachers, then all was well. None of the classmates cared enough about her to make a big fuss unless her unhealthiness directly affected them, and it didn’t. Cecelia wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

Cecelia turned at the sound of a voice, broken English filling her ears. She recognized that voice. “Ouais, je peux.” The Gryffindor said with a smile, using French to make it easier for the Beauxbatons guest. Cecelia grabbed the plate of ratatouille and pulled it closer to the foreigner (who wasn’t foreign to Cecelia at all), only turning when she finally had the food in hand. Hesitantly, the Gryffindor girl looked at Chantal. “Est-ce que vous me souvenez?” She asked quietly.

@chantal

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Even after she turned her head, Chantal did not recognize the girl beside her. It wasn't until she started speaking in French that Chantal realized who the girl was: a very frail Cecelia Rousseau. Cecelia and her twin sister, Braelynn, had been classmates of hers at Beauxbatons, but Chantal had lost touch with them after they had moved away before the start of their fourth year. “Est-ce que vous me souvenez?”

“Cecelia?” Chantal smiled, trying to mask her shock at her former classmate's gaunt appearance. “Bien sûr! Tu peux me tutoyer. C'est pas de problème.” Of course she remembered her; there was no need for Cecelia to address her so formally.

From what she had heard, Cecelia must have had a difficult summer. Her twin sister had been killed, yet she had been spared. Chantal took the dish of ratatouille from her, portioning some out onto her plate as she continued speaking. “J'ai été navrée d'apprendre le décès de ta sœur,” she said, expressing her condolences for Cecelia's recent loss. Chantal couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Cecelia to lose her twin sister; losing her older brother had been difficult enough.

Remembering that Cecelia might not have known about Youssouf's passing, Chantal spoke quietly, looking down at the ratatouille on the golden plate before her. “Mon frère est mort il y a quelques années.” It had been three years since her brother's death, and it still pained her, even though his had been the result of an ancient jinx and not murder.

She looked back to Cecelia. “Comment vas-tu?”

@cecelia

Dialogue translation:

^{_{“Cecelia?”
“Of course! You can use ‘tu’ [the familiar form of “you”] with me. It's not a problem.”
“I was saddened to hear of your sister's death.”
“My brother died a few years ago.”
“How are you?”}}

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Cecelia gave Chantal a tired smile when the other girl said her name. It had been a long time, and Cecelia was pleasantly surprised that her former classmate seemed so happy to see her. Skipping past the formalities was a good thing, though Cecelia wished she had remembered to practice her French more often after leaving home; the conjugations for the familiar form of ‘you’ weren’t nearly as easy as for the formal form. Oh well – this would give her a chance to relearn her mother tongue while also reconnecting with her past friends. “Merci.” She replied simply when Chantal gave her condolences – there was no other way to respond to that, really, without bursting into tears.

“Je n’ai pas su, Chantal. Je suis très désolée de l’entende.” She apologized quietly. Losing a sibling was never easy, and Cecelia felt a certain kind of camaraderie with Chantal now. Perhaps this year wouldn’t be as miserable as the Gryffindor had originally anticipated. “Ça va.” That was the only thing that she could get out, once again for fear of crying. “Veux-tu pratiquer parler en anglais? Je pense que les autres étudiants pense que nous les discutons.” Cecelia said with a smile. It was funny how people always assumed others were talking about them, even when the conversation was far tamer and less personal.

@chantal

Translations:
Thank you.
I didn't know, Chantal. I'm very sorry to hear it.
I'm alright.
Would you like to practice speaking in English? I think that the other students think that we're talking about them.

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Truly, it was terrible that the both of them now had deceased siblings, but there was something comforting to Chantal in knowing that she wasn't the only one who had felt that same pain. She assumed that Cecelia didn't want to dwell on it any more than she did, because she went on to suggest that they speak in English with one another. For Cecelia, especially, there was the worry that her classmates might think that they were discussing them.

Chantal nodded. “D'accord. That is fine.” She understood why Cecelia had requested that of her. She didn't want to seem as though she had been gossiping, either, but having a full conversation in English wasn't the same.

“My English is not very good,” she explained apologetically after a bite of ratatouille, knowing that Cecelia used English much more frequently than she did. “I am going to try.” Immediately, Chantal laughed a little at herself. She knew that she must have sounded funny to the Hogwarts students; she certainly thought that she sounded strange!

“Euh…” Chantal hesitated, unsure of what to say next. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Cecelia didn't seem to be very close to any of the other students around them. “You like Hogwarts, no?”

@cecelia

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Cecelia felt a little stab of regret at asking Chantal to speak English. It was a hard language to learn, she knew, and she had just asked Chantal to switch for her own comfort. Switching back now would be impossible, though, so Cecelia decided to shake it off and continue the conversation. “It’s alright.” She said when Chantal apologized for her English. “I’m sure my French was not pleasant after so long without practice, either.” It occurred to Cecelia that this was the first real conversation she was having this school year, and it wasn’t even with one of her classmates.

“Hogwarts is a nice place.” Cecelia answered, purposefully dodging the question. “I’m sure you’re going to have a lot of fun here. And…I would like it very much if we could be friends again.” Maybe her classmates were poisoned by their opinions of Desirae, but Chantal had no such qualms. Chantal could remember Cecelia before she became Desirae’s henchperson. Maybe Cecelia would remember how to be Cecelia again, with Chantal’s help and friendship.

@chantal