Beatrice sat on the edge of the seat. Her mates on one side of her clutching at each other. They had attempted to include Beatrice in their tight grips, but Beatrice had slid out of their grasp with a warm apologetic smile. The last week had been rather boring and she had, with her mates turned in their names into the cup. She had by no means been the first, but she hadn't been the last. In the end Beatrice was certain that the younger of her two brother's hadn't even put his name into the cup. She wasn't surprised, he wasn't brave. 

The headmistress for Beauxbaton stood and addressed the three schools. She spoke about honor and glory. Beatrice didn't care about either of those. Nor did she care about the prize money. She wanted the challenge for the challenge's sake. All her life those around her had told her that she couldn't do something because it was too dangerous. This, this event was the most dangerous even the Wizarding community put on, and if she beat it, or at least survived it. No one could tell her ever again that she wasn't good enough.

The Headmistress stepped up to the Goblet, fire from within it lighting up the room. It was a moment of painful silence when a slip of paper, slightly charred on the edges flinted from the Goblet into the hostess' waiting hand.

She flipped it over and read, "Anthony Stuart, Hogwarts." The Hogwarts students exploded into cheers. Beatrice saw a couple not joining in the raucous display of emotion. She herself gave a polite applause. Beatrice had seen the boy around the school, but had had no reason, as of yet, to speak with him. She hoped that would change in just a moment.

Another piece of paper flew from the goblet and into the Hostess' hand. "Alice Delacour, Beauxbaton." The girl's fellow students cheered, putting the Hogwarts small few to shame. Beatrice watched Alice stand and head to the back room after Anthony, and had to admit even to a small bit of her self, that Alice was pretty.

Now for the Durmstrang student. Beatrice could hear her heart beat, it hurt her ear drums and she was vaguely worried she'd miss the name read. The last piece of paper landed and was read, "Beatrice Falk, Durmstrang. You may join the other two." Beatrice's heart stopped, it must have, she must have heard incorrectly. Her feet started taking her anyway. The sound of her classmate's feet stomping gave her heart. They were behind her, even if she was such an odd girl they would support her in this foreign land.