Delicate Magic ► George Weasley

eleven. teasing chronicles

Iola would be the first to admit that the dragons were far more interesting that the golden egg that Fleur had produced form the competition. She wanted to know how the magnificent beasts were after the all the stress of being transported here just to be attacked and have one of their eggs stolen from them.

And the poor thing that had crushed her near because of Viktor — she had never been angry over something so foolish but the rage that bubbles through her at the thought of what her friend had done was unlike anything she had ever felt. It wasn't even entirely his fault.

Still, she couldn't rid her mind of the poor thing even as Fleur prodded at her to help days after the fact. Madame Maxime knew what the next task was, of course, but wanted to see if the champion could figure it out in her own before she stepped in. It was only fair, after all, and she only hoped the others were playing by the same rules.

The second task was three months away and if she didn't want to hear the terribly shrieking that occurred when the egg was opened, then it couldn't be helped.

It was a sound too familiar, like one of intense pain and grief that grate against her eardrums.

It sounded like torture or a terrible nightmare that seized your mind completely.

Aveline enjoyed showing her such things, sometimes, the terrible things that could occur if she let herself become weak and slow.

Which was ridiculous because Iola was incredibly quick and talented.

So as much as she loved her friend, avoiding her with the guise of practicing her firestorm spell alone was the one option that made her feel normal — keeping her head steady on her shoulders as she felt like she was missing moments from her memory.

The flames disappeared with the slowing of her movements, halting as she tries to catch her breath once the intense heat dissipates.

"You're going to hurt yourself again," Fleur comments, shoulder pressed to the carriage as she watches her.

Sofie was seated at her feet, legs crossed to one side with a book steadied on her lap. "It doesn't look like it needs any more practice to me."

"You aren't even looking," Iola calls her out, rolling her eyes as she centres herself once more.

"I am, and it looks fine. You should be reviewing different spells, ones that will be useful to you," Fleur scolds, pushing away from the carriage. "You can't use this in a formal duel. It's too dangerous, too much of a risk."

"Yes, but mother wants me to learn it."

"Madame Bouchard isn't always right. She isn't the one competing. Does she duel for you?"

Iola scoffs loudly. "Most certainly not, I can assure you of that."

"Then, why bother working on something that isn't useful to you right now?" Fleur continues. "You have the qualifiers round at the end of the month. Prepare for that."

"Aren't you already qualified because you are the junior champion?" Sofie questions. "Why even bother going?"

"Because it betters my chances by putting me into a better bracket system."

"And how will firestorm help you with that?" 

"Mother told me that they sometimes set it as a free for all. Longer you last better the score," she explains, dropping her stance so she wouldn't be standing like an idiot before her friends. "They would add points based on the difficulty of a spell for those types of situations. As long as no one is killed or permanently maimed, then all is fine."