You Probably Think This Song Is About You (Émile)

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As the three Triwizard Champions were briefed in the other room off of the Great Hall, Chantal, like the rest of the students, had been dismissed. Although she was disappointed that she had not been chosen to represent Beauxbatons, she respected the Goblet of Fire's decision to choose Émile Chevalier. It must have seen something in him that warranted it, though she knew that she certainly didn't see whatever it saw, or she wouldn’t have realized that trying to date him was a lost cause.

However, Émile was the first impression that the rest of the world—including much of the other two schools' student bodies—would have of Beauxbatons and the rigor of the education that it offered. Because Chantal took pride in her school, she planned to cheer him on (to victory, naturally); she would just have to overlook how much of an egomaniac she felt he had become. Ignoring the minor flaws in his personality would be easier for the girls from Durmstrang and—primarily—Hogwarts, who were sure to swoon over him. Chantal hoped that her own classmates had more sense than that, but Émile would enjoy the attention, regardless of from whom it came, and he was sure to have plenty of it as soon as he returned to the Beauxbatons Carriage.

Chantal herself was waiting inside of the carriage, along with her peers, all of them discussing the chosen three amongst themselves. Elias Greyback, she had concurred with another girl, looked particularly unkempt. She was careful not to say anything particularly disparaging about the Weasley girl who had been chosen. Most of them looked incredibly similar to one another, and Chantal recognized the girl as belonging to the same House as Cecelia.

Seeing the door to the carriage open again, Chantal glanced over at it. It must have been Émile.

@emile

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E verything had gone exactly as expected. His entire existence was validated through being chosen as the Beauxbatons champion. The hard work he had put into school over the last six years was finally looking like it was going to pay off. He had a few concerns about the tournament though. The lack of transparency on what the tasks entailed had gotten him thinking about what he needed to know exactly. School had taught him a lot, and more worldly experience had come through his constant duels. The previous tournaments’ tasks varied significantly, which his constant research in the Hogwarts library had provided him with, and so far there didn’t seem to be one specific pattern or trend that each school followed when they hosted. That meant he had to wait until his advisor gave him more information on what to do. Speaking of her, what a lucky grab that was. Obviously the other schools had advisors that had been through the tournament before, whether as a participant or as an observer, but they didn’t have someone who knew how to deal with the immense pressure and popularity that came with the tournament. At least that’s what he believed. Following the initial informational meeting with the Hogwarts headmaster, the advisors, and the other champions, Émile had a brief talk with his own advisor and was now heading back to the Beauxbatons carriage. He hadn’t been too surprised that most of the students from all three schools had left the Great Hall already. A few were still hanging around, presumably for the Hogwarts champion, but all of his classmates were already gone. Casually strolling by the students lingering around in the entrance of the school, Émile pushed the doors open and headed out onto the grounds. The temperature had decreased drastically since they had walked up to the castle earlier on, but it seemed pretty typical for the October nights that he had already encountered. Approaching the carriage, he anticipated a semi-warm welcome as he entered. There would definitely be a few who were upset over not being picked, that much had been made clear already when his name was called earlier. The rest of the students would probably follow along and route for him now, despite their objections to him being their champion. Grabbing the door handle of the carriage, Émile clicked it open and stepped inside. He couldn’t help but have a smug grin on his face as he observed the rest of the Beauxbatons’ faces. Serves them right, saying he’d never be the champion. Their worst nightmare had come true, yet also their only chance at bringing a victory back to the school. If they couldn’t understand that at this point, there was no hope. 456 @chantal

credit to nat of adoxography.

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Chantal's suspicion was proven correct as Émile entered, the reaction to his presence mixed. A few students were scowling, while others were congratulating him. He was grinning—and why shouldn't he have been? He had been the one selected, out of all of them, and that had to have given him a sense of pride. Chantal knew that, if she had been made Champion, she would have thought highly of herself, too. It was an honor, and it was one that very few people could claim.

Wondering how many of her classmates were already plotting how they could return home, Chantal watched the crowd, trying to give Émile some space. The rest of them could have gone back to France, in theory, though they had agreed to remain at Hogwarts for the full year. Having classes in the Carriage wasn't terrible, for it was much larger on the inside than its exterior appearance suggested, though she would have preferred the palace to which they were all accustomed.

Her ability as an Animagus, too, was nothing more than a good party trick, apparently. Unless the Triwizard Tournament's organizers cared to have her running around as a genet during one of the tasks, it served Chantal little purpose in Scotland. It proved her skill at Transfiguration, but it would have been so much better to be able to watch the awe on the faces of her competitors as she went from teenage girl to a small animal that they probably wouldn't have been able to identify.

Once Émile had mixed and mingled with the others, Chantal approached him. Her smile wasn't entirely forced, though she was preparing herself to hear about how wonderful whatever he had done upon his having been taken to the other room had been. “Félicitations, Émile!” she congratulated him, refraining from faire la bise and offering out her hand for him to shake.

@emile

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T he reactions from his fellow Beauxbatons students were exactly what he had expected. He felt that for most people, that would have been hard to handle. Then again, he wasn’t most people, and it was safe to assume that this was only happening because he was the champion. Had the champion been someone more likeable, like Chantal, then maybe it would have been a warmer welcome. After walking around the room for a little bit, getting very few congratulators in the process, Émile was starting to get the picture. He knew they didn’t like him, and he didn’t like them either. The ones that approached him were, for the most part, the goody two-shoes that would have done that no matter who it was, even though it meant that they weren’t champion. The feeling was completely mutual. He was exhausted from the excitement anyways, and he decided that it was time to turn in. Before he could though, Chantal finally came up to him. She was one of the ones that he had just been thinking about. She would feel the need to route for him no matter what because he was Beauxbatons, not because she liked him. They’d always gotten along fine, at least he liked to look at it that way, but that didn’t change who either of them actually were. As she congratulated him as well, he returned the hand shake. “Merci. Je dois tout à mon travail acharné et leur dévouement." It had been a while since he had actually spoken French to any of his classmates. More like since any of them had actually spoken to him in general. There was an unwritten agreement for him to ignore them as he went off and did his own thing with the Durmstrang and Hogwarts students. Since barely any of them actually knew French, he was used to using English. No matter to him, since he preferred using it. There was never any reason to use English back at Beauxbatons, so it was relegated to when he was home during breaks. Sure his mother could speak French fluently, but she absolutely adored when he used English. There were few things that he would do for others. That was one of them. [Had to use Google Translate for that. Way too rusty on my French to feel confident xD] 374 @chantal

credit to nat of adoxography.

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He thanked her, which was better than she could have hoped. Of course, Chantal didn't expect much from Émile, and she wasn't shocked to hear him chalk up his having been chosen by the Goblet of Fire to his supposed hard work and dedication—not that she had noticed him putting in any more effort than the rest of them had. Besides, being selected as a representative of one's school was all a matter of chance, wasn't it?

Chantal released her hand from the handshake and brought it back to her side. “De rien,” she smiled. Although she hadn't been paying much attention to it, she couldn't remember having spoken with Émile in their native tongue since before they had left for Hogwarts. Since English was the lingua franca for the students from Durmstrang and them—as well as the language spoken by the students from Hogwarts—most of them had been trying to communicate in it when they could.

At least, with her fellow students from Beauxbatons, Chantal knew that her lack of mastery of English wouldn't be too much of a hindrance, since she could always switch back into French to restate her point. “I am going to encourage you in the Tournament,” she nodded. “You are the Champion for Beauxbatons.” She would probably regret stroking his ego so much, but she wasn't lying when she said that she would be supporting him.

@emile

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H e was the Champion for Beauxbatons. That had a nice ring to it too. Émile Chevalier, Champion of Beauxbatons. In other words, the best wizard from their school. There had been so much negativity when it came to the selection process back home, but he knew he had it from the get go. And now he did, and there was nothing any of his classmates could do about it. The evidence was clear that he was the best choice out of them all. Now they simply had to sit and watch him wipe the other two schools off the face of the earth with his sheer superiority in skill in virtually everything. Sure, he didn’t have the genes of a Weasley, or whatever that girl’s name was, and he didn’t have the natural strength and speed of a werewolf or Greyback offspring, but he was far more competitive and goal oriented than either of them. There was no stopping the train that Émile was on now. “Well, you’re on the winning team then. Because while I am the Champion, and I am competing, it’s still all to prove that Beauxbatons is better.” It slightly pained him to say that last bit, especially after nailing the emphasis of him being the champion even deeper. He may have raised his voice slightly throughout that too, to prove that his classmates would have to get over it eventually and cheer for him. “So you’re staying here then? I know some have decided to go back. Not sure why they came in the first place, to be honest.” Especially knowing he was going to win it. 272 @chantal

credit to nat of adoxography.

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“Well,” Émile proclaimed, “you’re on the winning team, then. Because while I am the Champion, and I am competing, it’s still all to prove that Beauxbatons is better.” (Well, thought Chantal to herself, his egocentricity hadn't gone anywhere.)

Regardless, she nodded. He was right that Beauxbatons was the best of the three schools, both academically and when it came to competition; there really wasn't any contest.

Then, puzzlingly, Émile asked her if she was planning on staying at Hogwarts, considering that she hadn't been selected to compete and was under no obligation to stay if she didn't want to. (What was funny about what Émile said, though, was that Chantal would have bet good money that he, too, would have taken off for France if he hadn't been made Champion.)

“They want to return to Beauxbatons?” she asked with displeasure in her voice. “I will not stop them.” If some of their classmates were actually considering going back home instead of enjoying their time in Britain, she didn't think that they should have been chosen to come to Hogwarts from the start. They weren't in it to bring glory to their school and their country; they were only in it for themselves. They were among a select few; it was an honor simply to be a member of the delegation!

“I am staying,” Chantal affirmed to Émile, wondering who had voiced to him that they would be leaving. It wasn't unlike him to exaggerate, in her experience. “Who is leaving?”

@emile

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C hantal’s nod of her head as he stated Beauxbatons was a better school only confirmed the already known fact. There was no denying that they had superior graduates. Hogwarts was the ‘fun’ one as he had found out already. Normal boarding school for magic. Few restrictions and regulations other than staying out of the woods (for the most part), and the classes were dull. Beauxbatons explored identifying everyone’s strengths and weaknesses and went from there, sharpening each and every one of them to their utmost capabilities. It might not have been that way for everyone, but that was how Émile had seen his education go. A lot of that had been in his own time and of his own volition, of course, but the framework was established by the school. He didn’t actually know if anyone was returning, more making the statement that they seemed like they were ready to run home with their tails between their legs. That and supporting a champion like him was too hard for most. Not his fault they had weak wills and lack of potential. Practice did make perfect after all. “I won’t stop them either. But going back to school to finish their last year is more promising than waiting around in this rainy country for the rest of the year.” Unfortunately he had to get used to that, because he was stuck here one way or another. He couldn’t even go home during the winter break because the stupid ball took up that spot. Only another thing on his list of things to do, after he went and won the first task of course. That was the first order of business. “No idea who wants to leave, but I wouldn’t want to stick around and support someone like me if I were them.” He acknowledged the issue at hand, knowing full well that was another reason some of them would go. “So what do you think about these other…champions?” Every little bit of information and observation that he could squeak out his peers was useful. 343 @chantal

credit to nat of adoxography.

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Émile said that he wouldn't stop people, either, if they decided to leave. However, he did say that going back to Beauxbatons was better than spending the year in such a “rainy” country, with which Chantal didn't necessarily agree. She wasn't particularly fond of the rain, but it could have been a lot worse. Besides, this was an experience that she knew that she would never get to have again, and she knew that her parents would question her incessantly if she did choose to go home.

He also admitted that he didn't know who was planning to leave, exactly. “I wouldn’t want to stick around and support someone like me if I were them.”

Chantal blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly because they had been using English. Had Émile Chevalier, of all people, just admitted to her that he had a massive ego? Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she had to laugh. “Donc t'admets que t'es un c*n?” she smiled. It was rhetorical, as far as she was concerned; she'd probably never get that admission out of him again.

As for what she thought about the other Champions so far, she paused. “The Weasley girl,” she considered, “she is intelligent, I think.” She seemed to be, at least; she was in the same House as Cecelia. “The boy from Durmstrang?” Chantal was hesitant to give a firm answer there and shrugged. She hadn't spent any time around him or any of the other Durmstrang students. “I do not know.”

@emile
OOC: The French is, “So you admit that you're a d*ck?”