Disappointment. That was the only emotion that Émile exhibited following the end of the third task and the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament Champion. He knew the second he stepped out of the arena that he hadn’t won. Even with the grab bag of fairies that he had found, there was no way that it would be enough to push him to a first place victory. All of that went by in a blur – there wasn’t much time left at Hogwarts for the Beauxbatons students after the announcement. They still had to go back to their own school and take finals, and then graduate just like the other two magical schools. He didn’t want to say that this year was a waste, because it wasn’t, but a little part of him wished that there hadn’t been a tournament. At least then he wouldn’t be a loser. Not having one at all was better than what he was currently feeling.
The strong, first place victory in the first task apparently hadn’t been enough for the whole tournament, and he still thought that the score for the second task was a bit iffy. Napoleon, his murtlap friend, had come out of the task unscathed, so receiving second place didn’t really make sense to Émile. Had it been the part where he dropped him on the other side of the door while battling the yeti? There were too many questions and far too much hindsight to look back on. Émile knew that he couldn’t drive himself crazy antagonizing over the tournament for the rest of his life. Right now though, he figured he was allowed. The newspapers would make a field day with him, and while he didn’t really care, he preferred being able to back up what he said. Everyone would forget about it by the time another terrorist attack happened anyways. That was how it worked these days.
So the remainder of Émile’s time at Hogwarts went by quietly, and with him keeping to himself, soaking in the last of the British school’s atmosphere. It was unlike him to ignore everything else going on around him, but considering the fact that he had just spent the last six months training for a tournament of death, not doing anything was kind of nice for once. He could do what he wanted to do without any strings attached. The best part? Not joining the Quidditch scrimmage that the Hogwarts students had organized. He had tried to get one of those going all year long, and was always given strange looks for wanting to beat everyone into the ground. And there they all were, playing in awful rain and slugging bludgers at each other without a care in the world. Maybe he was the sane one after all. Staying out of it meant being able to see if there would ever be competition should he turn pro. There was a part of him that just wanted to go into magical beast studies, since they seemed to have taken a liking to him during the tournament. Quidditch was just a secondary option, which is what he had to tell his advisors over and over again the days before leaving Hogwarts.
The day they left, Émile made sure to get into the carriage well before anyone else. He didn’t really care for all the ceremony anymore since it wasn’t about him. Going home was all he had in mind at this point in time, and heading to his room in the carriage, that was what he settled down for. Waiting for everyone else to board, Émile heard a knock on his door – the kind that got him to stand up and want to answer it. There would be some kind of fun during the travel, at least.
[So the lead up to Émile's death is done by the following lovely people. Let's give them a round of applause for their great paragraphs, and for killing Émile for me, since I couldn't think up anything xD]
@puck
The entire carriage shook, rousing Émile from his slumber. For a moment, nothing processed – his brain was still sluggish with sleep and the slight depression that came with knowing that he had lost. Émile wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to face his family, or his country, or himself. It was only after a long, long moment of silence that something finally began to register with him; it wasn’t normal for there to be jolts like that midair. The horses were well-trained (and definitely better at serving their purpose than he had been, since he had lost). Émile was about to go through another shame spiral when he remembered the issue at hand. There had been an unnatural movement of the carriage, and now… now he was falling. Émile probably should have been panicked, but he wasn’t. Losers didn’t deserve to live, and if he was to fall from this height, maybe death would take him, and he wouldn’t have to live the rest of his life in shame and disgrace.
co-admin lisa Émile looked over to his right and wasn’t entirely surprised to find himself alone. Margaux had come to him for...comfort soon after the carriage had taken off, and he had been willing to oblige her. They were both leaving the comforts of what they had grown accustomed to at Hogwarts, and by comforts he of course meant the people. He looked up as he began to fall and saw the ledge of the hole in the carriage he had fallen through. Perhaps it wasn’t his time to die after all! He reached up and managed to grab it with sweaty fingers, his body jerking violently from the reaction. Fear and adrenaline kicked in as he pulled himself up with a loud grunt. He looked around, chest heaving heavily. The carriage shook violently again and he almost stumbled right back through the hole. No, he had to move forward. He burst through the door and promptly vomited all down his front. What he saw…. it was chaos.
Other TJ It was horrible, there were holes all over the carriage as he exited his cabin. A mess of blood and wooden pieces littered the floor. He didn't see anyone who all this blood could have belonged to, he hoped for the best but they may have suffered the same fate he had just spared himself from. The smell of smoke also filled his lungs while he panicked for a moment. Whatever had happened he wasn't going to stick around to find out. This was also the idea of many others as Émile could hear yelling and screaming all around him. The voices were still at a distance, no one wanted to be around a loser such as himself it would seem even as the carriage plummeted from the sky. There had to be something around that could save him, the mixture of adrenaline and instinct to survive convinced him to keep going. There was still a chance to redeem himself someday he just had to live to see it.
Émile rushed toward what used to be an exit hoping to find salvation only to trip and fall landing on his chin. He cursed at himself only to look at what tripped him, it was the very broom he used in the third trial. Probably here to mock him but it just might be his saving grace, he could fly out of here! Émile had hope, he would live through this he thought as he grabbed the broom ignoring the pain from his face and raced back to the hole he almost fell out of. He hopped on his broom and prepared to fly away as fast as he could from this nightmare. He had just started to get out of the hole in his cabin as the carriage jerked violently again and he panicked. He tried to get out faster only to have his clothes get caught on the sides of the carriage. Émile's grip loosened in his panic and the broom slipped away. He fell back into his cabin as he now watched his broom fly off alone in the sky. His only thought in this moment was that he had never seen it go this fast, even his broom was better off without a loser like himself.
SUZIE As the broom fell away, Émile looked to where his shirt had got snagged on the side of the carriage. He grimaced as he saw the tear in the shirt. It was one of his favorite shirts! Still, he had a choice to make. Die in an incredibly nice shirt, or shimmy his way out of it and take his chances with the sky.
He took way longer to make the decision than anyone really should. It really was a nice shirt, and he didn't want to lose it... plus, if they found his dead body in that shirt then it would prove that he was fashionable until the last. However, he wasn't sure he wanted to die just yet... plus, if he had to take off the shirt to live then wouldn't it only be fair to grace the world with his fine abs one last time?
The decision had been made, the remains of the carriage still plummeting to the earth. He quickly started to unbutton his shirt until it was done enough that he could wrangle himself out of it. Sadly, the very second he was free the carriage smashed into the ground, smashing Émile Felix Chevalier along with it. If he had made the decision between his life and his shirt a bit sooner, he may have had the chance to get out. But, alas, Émile was dead, and no one would even be able to appreciate his sexy body one more time due to the mangled state it would be in.
[The End of @emile ]
