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Of course, the first people to see Hogwarts were the ones seated in the front of the carriage-specifically those on the left side, as they were coming in from the north. Why, Harry didn't know, seeing as how Beauxbatons was definitely south of Hogwarts, but then he hadn't been consulted when they planned the flight path of the Abraxan-drawn conveyance. Harry himself was seated towards the back, next to the two other people in his year who had qualified for the trip. Fleur was seated up towards the front with her friends, in one of the prime spots, but the voices he'd heard exclaiming over the sight didn't include hers. That was one of the things Harry liked best about his sister-she didn't act like a giggling, besotted girl very often. One of the other things was that she was never too busy to greet him in the halls, or take time out to chat with him about her love life, and his lack thereof. "Can you see it yet?" Josette asked from beside Harry. Josette was a beautiful brunette, with a stunning smile and hazel eyes. She had been selected as first-string Chaser, and Harry had been over the moon with pride. Despite having come from a Muggle background, she had taken to the sport like a nargle to mistletoe, handily overcoming the perceived handicap, and was now being touted as one of the best players to come through Beauxbatons. She had set her sights on Harry when she'd first seen him at their Welcoming Feast, and it had taken awhile for her to concede defeat. Harry was unutterably grateful that she had-it had been rather uncomfortable to find himself squarely in the wandsights of the very determined girl. But they'd finally been able to overcome the twin obstacles of her desires and his utter lack of same, and become fast friends. "No," he answered, "the great lummox here is blocking the view." Harry's other friend turned and cast a rather hurt glare back, but it wasn't taken seriously by the other two. Michel had won a spot as a beater, which wasn't surprising to anyone who knew him. He was, to put it bluntly, huge. He looked as if he lifted small oxen for a light workout, and ate dragon steaks, rare, for a snack. In spite of his imposing figure, he was one of the nicest people Harry had ever met, and was widely regarded as being constitutionally unable to hurt so much as a flobberworm. On the Quidditch Pitch, however, all bets were off, as he swung a specially-modified bat (longer and wider than the regularly-sized ones, which looked like toothpicks in his hands) with all the abandon of a basilisk trying to kill roosters. There were only one or two other circumstances where he would get mad. The first was being called Michel. Having been exposed to classic American movies as a child, he had decided that Michel was not nearly manly enough for him-no, he demanded that everyone (except his mother) call him Tex. The second was if anyone dared say anything even slightly critical of Josette. He had loved her from afar since their first year, and done an admirable job of concealing it. Tex turned back to the window and grunted. "They don't do half-bad at gothic foreboding, do they?" he commented. Harry and Josette engaged in a furious, although friendly, battle to be the first to see past Tex out the window. Tex leaned back, and the other two caught their first glimpse of Hogwarts. "It's so grey!" Josette exclaimed, and Harry snorted. "Of course, silly! It was originally a fortress, built to withstand the Muggles of that time, and they didn't have time to make it into a palace." "Well, they still could have done something, couldn't they?" Josette asked. The carriage made a rather sharp turning descent at that moment, interrupting the conversation. "Great Merlin," Tex breathed out, upon seeing the grounds in front of the castle. "They're all on the lawn outside. I guess they figure that black robes go with anything, don't they?" Harry had to laugh; it certainly seemed that the color of choice was black for the entire student body. Here and there he caught a glimpse of yellow, or blue, but it seemed that the Hogwarts students weren't given a lot of clothing choices, which put a damper on their standing out individually. Harry was grateful that the Beaxubatons dress code allowed for more than just the blue they were wearing for this occasion. The ground came up at them in a final rush, and they touched down with a loud Thump!, although that was more for effect than anything else, as the magical dampening springs took the impact quite nicely. They rolled to a stop, and all the inhabitants of the carriage broke into excited whispers. The Headmistress arose then, and everyone went quiet. "As you may have noticed, my students, we have arrived. I hope you already understand the importance of first impressions, so I won't belabor the point. But please, remember who you are, and what you represent." The students shuffled nervously, each hoping that they wouldn't be the one to trip during their walk through the massed ranks of Hogwarts students. "Now, let us meet our hosts!" she called, and everyone rose to file out of the carriage. As soon as Fleur stepped out onto the grass, she stepped to one side, waiting for her little brother. Fleur was a very self-confident woman, of age, and well aware of the impact she had on males who hadn't had an opportunity to acclimate themselves to her beauty. To that end, the Delacour siblings had worked out a method for giving themselves a little space. Harry looked around as he stepped down onto the grass, and smiled as he saw his big sister. "Hi, Fleur! Thanks for waiting for me! Can you believe this place?" "Hey, Harry. Hi, Tex. Where's Jos- Oh, there you are. Are you all ready to go?" The trio nodded their heads and fell into their normal positions around the 17-year-old beauty. "And the weather. . ." Harry continued. "It's so drizzly. I mean, sure it's October and all that, but I don't know that I could live in a place that's so damp all the time." Tex rumbled a laugh deep in his chest, and Harry looked up at him in question. "Oh, nothing. I'm just thinking that we might have all been born over here, and this would be normal for us. For all we know, you would have grown up loving the rain and being homesick when you weren't here." Josette nodded, having thought the same thing. Harry thought for a bit, then conceded the point. "But," he pointed out, "I didn't, so I can complain all I want." He switched his attention to his big sister. "Well, Fleur, what are you going to tell all the boys here? You don't have a boyfriend right now, so are you going to play the field?" Fleur had thought quite a bit about this very point. While she enjoyed the attention that came from being a Veela, at least most of the time, she had gotten to the point where it was rather tiring. "I don't know, Harry. I'm not sure I want to be the belle of the ball—I mean, I'll definitely keep my eyes open, but I think I might just be ready for a real man." Harry gasped, then giggled (which he hated, because he always thought it made him sound like a child). "A real man? Well, aren't you-" Fleur waited a bit, but when Harry didn't say anything more, she turned to see what was the matter. Harry hadn't stopped walking, but it was very clear that his attention was elsewhere. His gaze was fixed somewhere ahead of them and off to the right, and his eyes had taken on a light that Fleur had never seen before. He looked. . . captivated was the only word Fleur could think of to describe him. His face had taken on a slight reddish tint, but it was equally obvious that he hadn't noticed. As Fleur watched, Harry turned away from the other three, and started walking towards some specific point in the crowd. Curious, she turned to see if she could figure out where he was headed. It was rather difficult to discern amongst the masses of students, but as she scanned the group, her eyes caught on a red-headed girl. She was staring back at Harry with the same intensity, and his path would take him straight to her. Oh my, she thought. Harry's found his Mate! She couldn't suppress a little squeal of delight, and a burgeoning hope that she and the mysterious girl would be able to be friends. oooooooooo Harry couldn't think straight. He had been chatting with his sister, and his two friends, talking about. . . something he couldn't quite recollect, when he had seen her. She was standing in the crowd, or rather, she was standing out from the crowd. Her beautiful hair, the color of a summer sunset, called out to him to notice her. Below that was a face that, to him, defined beauty. Looked at objectively, she was cute rather than beautiful, but Harry found himself completely unable to look at her in such a dispassionate manner. She had stolen his heart already, and he couldn't imagine that anyone would ever be more perfect for him than she was. He found himself walking directly towards her, without knowing how that had happened. It felt. . . vitally important, somehow, that he talk to her, touch her face, kiss her, as if he would stop breathing forever if he couldn't do those things with her. He blushed slightly as thoughts of doing even more than kissing crossed his mind, but somehow it didn't feel wrong, or dirty, or even too mature for him. He was in front of her now, and any nervousness he might have felt was swallowed up in joy at being so close to her. "Hi," he breathed. "I've been looking for you."