Draco Malfoy and the Goblet of Envy

Thirty seconds. That was all Draco had before he would have to venture off into the terrifying depths of the maze in search of the Triwizard Cup. Who knew what kind of horrible monsters he would encounter during this task? The previous two tasks - the dragon and the lake - were child's play compared to what was to come.

In a normal situation, Draco would have ran away like a coward. But in this scenario his most dominant instinct was not his self-preservation, but his all-consuming need to beat Harry Potter.

Everything around him felt like a blur, his attention fixed solely on the hedge before him. Even the sounds of his name being chanted - well Cedric’s name - couldn’t break him from his deep trance. All his focus was trained on the feeling in his bones - the burning desire to win.

From the corner of his eye he saw the other contestants, in a similar state of seriousness. Potter gripped his wand tightly in his fist, eyes dark. Viktor and Fleur wore a slightly off expression that showed they were not really Viktor and Fleur. Draco had made Goyle act as Fleur, and Pansy act as Viktor, since he could no longer trust Crabbe to let him win.

“Ten seconds remaining,” said Bagman. Draco steeled his jaw, as Bagman counted down. “And go!”

Draco broke off into a sprint, leaving behind the cheering crowd and embracing the chilling unknown of the maze. He ran for several minutes without seeing anything, for which he was thankful. Perhaps he would be lucky enough to simply avoid all the monsters.

He made a right turn after he could no longer go straight, and skidded to halt once he saw around the corner. Just ten feet away stood the most terrifying thing he had ever seen in his life.

Over ten feet tall, stood a plant, though Draco hesitated to call it a plant, for it looked far too conscious to count as one. With a long, green stem connecting to a spherical head - red with white spots - it reminded Draco most closely to the Venus Fly Trap that his father used to have in his office. But, most horrifically of all, the plant’s head had the most sinister teeth, and it was leering down at Draco like it would like nothing more than to swallow him whole.

Draco stumbled backwards a few steps, seconds away from turning around and making a break for it, cup forgotten, when he heard a noise on the other side of the plant.

Fleur Delacour, also known as Goyle, appeared on the other side of the plant-monster, his eyes blown wide.

“Run, Goyle!” Draco cried, but Goyle seemed to be rooted to the spot in fear, simply staring up at the monster. The plant’s attention had since shifted from Draco to Goyle, and it licked his lips, menacingly. This frightened Draco, for he didn’t know the monster had a tongue.

Finally, as the plant glared down at Goyle, he managed to break out of his trance and snap into action. He turned and tried to run, but the plant was too fast. With a earth-shaking roar, the plant lunged forward, slurping Goyle up and sending him right down the hatch.

Though Draco was saddened for the loss of his friend, he was not one to pass up an opportunity. While the plant was busy digesting Goyle, Draco sprinted past it.

That was close. Breathing heavily, Draco hoped that the other monsters were a little bit nicer.

He continued down the dark, twisting passageways of the maze, though this time he just kept at a mild speed-walk, not wanting to run any longer. Minutes ticked by, and Draco rubbed the sweat off his forehead. He wasn’t sure if it was exertion or nerves, but either way he found himself becoming quite overheated. He soon decided that it was the waiting that was the worst part. The monsters were scary, but the anticipation of finding one was even worse. The silence dragged on.

A popping sound occurred overhead and Draco startled, ramming into the hedge with his shoulder and only relaxing once he saw it had come from the red sparks in the sky. Someone had forfeited already. It couldn’t have been Goyle, and Draco had a feeling it was not Potter, meaning Pansy had already given up.

Draco shrugged. Knowing Pansy, it could’ve been as little as a bug to get her to quit. In a way it was good, seeing as his only competition now was Potter himself. He kept walking, taking a left at the next fork.

His legs began to ache, a dull, throbbing pain squeezing his calves. He had been so worried about the monsters, he hadn’t even realized that the most heinous part of this task would be all the walking.

A sudden clap of footsteps, made him halt. He remained very still, not even daring to breath, as he listened.

Something was approaching, and from the sound of it, they were very close.

He watched the nearest turn, unmoving, as something big, brown, and furry emerged from it.

Draco felt all the air leave his body. Far too close, and staring right at him, lurked a bear.

Not a magical bear. Just a regular bear.

Draco whipped his wand out and pointed it at the beast, his hand trembling.

He searched his mind for the old rhyme, taught to him as a small child, on what to do when faced with a bear.

If it’s black fight back. If it’s white say goodnight. And if it’s brown…

Draco’s stomach flipped. Why couldn’t he remember what to do if it’s brown?

The bear walked towards him slowly, as if it were in no rush at all, staring him down with those black, soulless eyes.

If it’s brown…wear a gown? No, that can’t be right.

Draco took several steps back as the bear continued forward.

If it’s brown…go to town? That wasn’t right either.

Draco closed his eyes, holding his wand so tightly he thought it might snap in half as he desperately tried to finish the rhyme. Then, like a bolt of lightening hitting a tree, it struck him.

If it’s brown be a clown!

Flooded with a newfound bravery, Draco pointed his wand at his own head and muttered a spell, “Clownicus Maximus!”

The bolt of purple light hit Draco square in the face, and instantly the effects took place. His shoes extended to a wacky size. His hair grew out, all curly and wild. And most importantly of all, his nose became round and red.

Staring the bear head on, Draco reached out and honked his own nose, resulting in a resounding squeak.

Draco gave the bear a smug smirk, expecting it to run for the hills for fear, but the bear didn’t budge. If anything, Draco’s new clown-like appearance only served to make the bear angrier! Without any warning, it charged, and Draco had to jump to the side to get out of the way. Frantically crab-walking away from the unstoppable bear, Draco’s chest heaved.

The bear changed directions, staring him down once more with a snarl that promised death. Draco pointed his wand at the bear, unthinking, and shouted, “Stupefy!”

The red jet struck the bear and it fell to its side, unconscious. Draco let out a long, relieved breath. He was far too young to be eaten by a bear, especially while in a clown costume.

Draco got to his feet and brushed himself off. He then hurried farther down the path, so he wouldn't be near the bear whenever it woke up.

As an after thought, Draco pointed his wand to himself again and muttered, “Sumixam Sucinwolc,” reversing the effects of the clown spell. The last thing he wanted was for Harry Potter to see him looking all ridiculous like that. It would totally ruin the joy of winning.

Draco continued on his way until he got to a fork in the path that was blocked by a very strange figure. Draco thought about going the other way, but the figure didn’t exactly appear threatening, so he approached.

Upon closer examination, Draco found that the creature had the head of a man - a very unattractive man with a handlebar mustache - and the body of a mountain lion.

“Who are you?” Draco asked.

“I’m the Sphjokes,” said the Sphjokes. “You may have heard of my sister, the Sphinx.”

“Oh.” Draco nodded with recognition. “So, am I meant to answer a riddle in order to pass?”

“Nah, that’s my sister’s thing,” he shrugged, handlebar mustache bobbing with the motion. “I do something else.”

“What?”

“I tell jokes,” said the Sphjokes. “Hence the name, Sphjokes.”

“So, what do I do to pass?” Draco asked, confused.

“You have to listen to my jokes.”

That sounded easy enough. Draco took a seat on the ground, willing himself to be a good audience.

“Why is it a bad idea to eat a clock?” the Sphjokes asked.

Draco waited for the answer, but after an absurdly long pause it seemed that the Sphjokes was waiting for Draco.

“Uh,” said Draco. “I don’t know.”

“Because it’s too time consuming!” the Sphjokes said. Draco forced himself to give a polite nod at the Sphjokes’ effort.

“Good one,” he lied, moving to stand up and pass.

“I’m not finished,” the Sphjokes said. Draco slumped back down, hoping this won’t last too long.

“What do you call a fish without eyes?” asked the Sphjokes.

Draco waited. “What?”

“A FSH!” he answered.

Draco tried to give the Sphjokes a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Don’t worry, I have lots of more jokes,” said the Sphjokes. Draco barely restrained himself from sighing. “What’s black and white and red all over?”

“A newspaper,” Draco said, bored. Who hasn’t heard that one before?

The Sphjokes lowered his head, slightly put out. “Oh, I was going to say a bloody penguin rolling down a hill, but your answer was better.”

“Listen, Sphjokes,” Draco said before the Sphjokes could tell another joke. “How many of these are you going to tell before I can move forward?”

“Until you laugh,” said the Spjokes. Draco's mouth fell open as he realized just how long this would take.

“Here’s a good one,” said the Sphjokes. “A snake walks into a bar, and the bartender says, ‘How did you do that?’”

Draco opened his mouth and forced out a loud, fake laugh, hoping it was enough to please the Sphjokes. The Sphjokes narrowed his eyes, handlebar mustache quivering.

“Are you making fun of me?” the Sphjokes asked.

Draco blinked, stunned that the Sphjokes got offended that he laughed. “No, I just thought it was funny.”

“What’s funny?” the Sphjokes’ face grew rather red. “Me?”

“Well, yes,” Draco said, quickly backtracking once he saw the Sphjokes scowl. “I mean, you aren’t funny - your jokes are.”

The angry expression on the Sphjokes seemed to soften. A small smile worked its way onto its lips, and the Sphjokes batted its eyelids. “You really think so?”

Draco didn’t like that glint in the Sphjokes’ eyes. It was the same glint he often saw in Shortnfat's eyes. Draco pushed himself up to his feet, while the Sphjokes was still distracted by the praise. Then, before the Sphjokes could argue against it, Draco took a running start and simply leaped over him.

“Hey!” said the Sphjokes, turning around. “I still had more jokes left!”

“Don’t care,” said Draco, bolting away from the half-man, half-cougar.

Once Draco was confident he had left the Sphjokes far in his dust, he slowed to a walk, searching for that darn Triwizard Cup. He fell back into the lull of eerie silence that came when there were no monsters around for a while. He couldn’t say he would rather the monsters though - the Sphjokes took a lot out of him.

Draco rounded the nearest corner, and let out a gasp when he saw what stood in his path.

Not a man-eating plant. Not a bear. Not even a Sphjokes.

Standing there, blood on the front of his shirt and looking just as put-out to see Draco as Draco was to see him, was Harry Potter himself.

“Potter,” Draco said. “Pity, you’re still alive.”

“Same to you,” Harry said, running his fingers through his matted hair.

Draco turned his nose up at the blood coating Harry's clothes. “How’d you manage that?”

“Acromantula,” Harry explained. “Why do you have paint on your face?”

Suddenly panicked, Draco reached up to touch his face only to find white clown-makeup residue once he brought his hand back down. He wiped it on his trousers, bitter. He can’t believe his effect reversing spell didn’t work all the way.

“Bear,” Draco explained, though this only made Potter more confused.

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to turn this way then,” he said, nodding towards a path intersecting the one they were on.

Draco regarded him with heavy suspicion. “How do I know you aren’t tricking me?”

Harry looked at Draco like he was stupid. “Because I’m going that way too?”

“But how do I know it’s not some intricate set up, designed to trick me?” Draco continued, crossing his arms over his chest. “For all I know you could already know where the Cup is, and now you’re just leading me away from it!”

Harry struggled to speak for several seconds. “That’s insane!” he finally managed. “You’re insane. Malfoy, if I knew where the Cup was I would’ve already grabbed it!”

“But how do I know-”

“Because I’m not you!” he yelled, throwing his arms up in frustration. “I’m not a Slytherin! I'm not a cheater! God, this would be so much easier if you were Cedric.”

“I am Cedric,” Draco lied, out of habit more than anything else. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Whatever, Malfoy, let’s just-” Harry paused upon removing his hand, his eyes scanning over Draco's face. His mouth fell open. “Uh…”

Draco pursed his lips at the weird look Harry wore. “What?” he asked, strangely self-conscious as Harry Potter stared and stared. “Do I have more paint on my face or something?”

“No, it’s your hair,” Harry managed, still dazed.

“What’s wrong with my…” Draco trailed off as he touched the hair in question, half expecting it to be covered in paint. When he didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary, he glared at Harry, thinking he must have played a prank on him. “Potter, what are you on about? This is just my normal hair.”

Putting it to words is when it finally hit him. Draco’s jaw dropped, horror taking root inside him. “It’s my normal hair.”

Trembling, Draco held his hands out in front of him only to watch in real time as they shrunk from Cedric Diggory’s normal size, to a slightly smaller, more slender, and much more pale version. In fact, his entire body shrunk, his robes becoming a bit too large, and dropping down to around Potter’s height. He prodded at his own face, only to find it sharp and pointy, the direct opposite of how Cedric Diggory’s should feel.

The Polyjuice had worn off, and now he looked exactly like Draco Malfoy again.

Absurdly, a choked laugh escaped his throat. He fumbled inside his robe pocket. “Surely, I have more Polyjuce in here,” he said, laughing again when the pocket turned out to be empty.

He moved to his other pocket, and his heart almost leapt out of his chest with relief when he found a small bottle in it. He put an eye against the bottle’s opening and found a thick, dark, muddy liquid inside it. It was Polyjuice Potion, but only in its purest form, before any hair was added to it. Desperate, he began examining his sleeves, searching for a piece of Cedric’s hair that had fallen off. But no such hair appeared. What use was plain Polyjuice?

“How did I forget to make more Polyjuice?” he asked out loud, voice high with fear. He took some right before he left, maybe he just assumed the task would take less than an hour. Either way, after a full year of being careful not to make any errors when it came to the Polyjuice, Draco had finally slipped up.

A shaky breath escaped him, and he pressed a palm over his chest to calm his pounding heart as the gravity of this situation hit him.

He could not win this Tournament as Draco Malfoy. Because Draco Malfoy was never supposed to be in it in the first place. He can only picture the faces the crowd would wear if Draco Malfoy appeared clutching the Triwizard Cup. He can only imagine the boos from his classmates, the looks of disgust thrown his way.

Draco Malfoy was not popular. Draco Malfoy was not well-liked. Cedric was, which is why the entire plan relied on the fact that he had to be Cedric.

As himself, how could he ever hope to win?

“Hey!” a voice near him drew him out of his misery. Harry Potter stood in front of him, his green eyes big and full of concern. “Get a hold of yourself, Malfoy.”

Draco took a large gulp of air, for the first time in his life trying to do as Potter asked.

“If you didn’t want people to find out so badly, you’d think you’d do a better job at this whole thing,” Harry said, shaking his head, the motion causing his already messy, dark hair to fall out of place even more.

The movement attracted Draco’s full attention, like a magnet to metal. An idea claimed his mind, and once it had he had no hopes of letting it go.

Abruptly, Draco lunged forward, thrusting his fist into Harry's hair and pulling hard. A clump of hair tore right out, feeling right at home in Draco’s fingertips.

“Ow!” Harry yelled, darting out of reach and rubbing his scalp. “What’s wrong with you? You’re like a toddler! Always biting and pulling hair.”

Draco paid Harry no mind, simply sticking the pieces of hair into the plain Polyjuice and watching as it morphed into a bright, gold color.

“Are you serious?” Harry asked as he caught on to what Draco was doing. “You only need one piece of hair for Polyjuice! One! Did you really have to rip out a whole handful?”

Draco, again, ignored Potter as he tipped back his head and chugged the glorious liquid.

The physical changes between Harry and him were not quite as grand as Cedric and him. They were already close to the same size, for one, so it only took the slightest bit of shrinking and losing weight. The largest difference was the wild hair growth and the loss of his vision, everything turning very blurry.

The real Harry Potter gaped at him. “That’s so weird.”

“Give me your glasses,” Draco snapped.

Harry scoffed. “No way, I need them too!”

“I just want to duplicate them!”

Very reluctantly, Harry slipped his glasses off just long enough for Draco to cast a simple, “Geminio.” Draco slipped the copy of the glasses on his nose, satisfied that he could see once more.

“Let’s not waste anymore time. Shall we?” Draco asked not waiting for an answer, before he strode down the intersecting path in search of the Cup. It only took a few seconds before Harry snapped out of it and hurried to catch up with him.

“I’m a little confused,” Harry said. “How are you going to explain why there’s two of us?”

Draco stumbled in his stride a little bit. He truthfully hadn’t thought that far ahead. He only knew he couldn’t come out of the maze looking like himself. “Well, it’ll be easier than explaining why I’m there. I’ll just say, I don’t know, some maze monster made me look like you, and I should go back to looking like Cedric soon enough.”

“Uh huh,” Harry said, sounding unimpressed. The two of them walked for several beats in silence, before Harry piped up once more. “Did you see the red sparks earlier?”

“That was for Pansy,” said Draco. “I mean for Viktor. Goyle’s out of the running too. I mean Fleur.”

“Do you know what happened to them?”

“Not Pansy, no. But Goyle got eaten by a giant plant.”

“Is he alive?”

“How should I know, Potter? I certainly didn’t hang around long enough to check!”

Harry frowned, righteous anger sparking in his eyes. “He’s your friend! How could you just leave him?"

“Trust me, Goyle’s had plenty of experience in the ‘getting eaten’ field. He’ll be fine.”

Harry made a face, nose scrunching up. “What does that even mean?”

They made a right turn, and Draco nearly screamed. Blocking the path was a half-man, half-jaguar with a walrus mustache.

Draco put his hands on his head - well, Harry’s head. “Please tell me you aren’t related to the Sphjokes.”

“That would be my brother,” the creature nodded.

Harry leaned forward, eyebrows lifted with interest. “You ran into the Sphjokes? I ran into the Sphinx!”

“Who are you?” asked Draco, not wanting to know the answer.

“I’m the Sphcompliments,” said the Sphcompliments.

“That is an outrageous name,” said Draco before he could stop himself. “So I suppose you won’t let us go until we compliment you?”

“Close,” said the Sphcompliments. “I won’t let you go until you compliment each other.”

In unison, Draco and Harry’s jaws both fell open, staring at the Sphcompliments like it just grew two walrus mustaches.

“You want us to- to-” Harry spluttered, struggling to finish his thought. “Compliment each other?”

“That’s impossible!” Draco complained. “There’s nothing to compliment!”

The Sphcompliments shrugged its jaguar shoulders. “Then I suppose you’ll stay here.”

Harry turned to Draco, outrage written all over his face. Draco shared the emotion entirely. They would be stuck here for all eternity if the only escape was complimenting each other!

“Malfoy,” said Harry, clenching his teeth. “You are very good at getting away with very evil and immoral crimes!”

So that’s how Potter wanted to play it. Draco pressed his lips together tightly. “Well, you’re very good at failing to ever mind your own business!”

As one, they turned to look at the Sphcompliments, but it didn’t budge.

“We did what you wanted! Let us go now!” said Harry, but the Sphcompliments just chuckled.

“Those weren’t real compliments, and we all know it,” he said with a wink.

Harry and Draco tore their gazes away from the Sphcompliments and shared a very intense glance. For the first time ever, Draco thought he knew exactly what Potter was thinking, and knew that they were on the same side.

As a single unit, Draco and Harry both pulled out their wands. The Sphcompliments paled, his walrus mustache twitching in fear.

“Now!” shouted Harry, and together they both sent a stunner flying right at the Sphcompliments.

Unfortunately, the Sphcompliments was fast. He ducked, and both jets of light zipped right over his head.

“You can’t do this!” he shrieked. “All I ask is for a single compliment!”

“Never!” Harry yelled, ditching his wand and attacking the Sphcompliments with his fists instead. Draco joined in, scratching and biting every inch of the Sphcompliments he could reach. In one particular bout of cruelty, Draco reached up and yanked on the walrus mustache, causing the Sphcompliments’ eyes to water in pain.

“Okay, stop!” he cried. “You can pass, just please stop hurting me!”

“Never!” Draco yelled, jabbing the Sphcompliments in the eye, with every intention of doing it again and again until the Sphcompliments couldn’t see any longer. The only thing preventing him from doing so was a hand enclosing around his wrist.

“Malfoy, stop,” said Harry. Draco sighed dramatically, but dropped his jabbing fingers all the same. However, he couldn’t resist giving the Sphcompliments one last, parting kick in the ribs before stepping over him and going on his way. Harry frowned at him in disapproval, but Draco didn’t care.

They continued down he path, the pained whimpers of the Sphcompliments growing softer behind them.

“We have to be close,” said Draco as they approached yet another right turn. Upon saying it, he audibly gasped in shock. Ahead of them, shimmering bright, was the Triwizard Cup, just waiting to be grabbed.

A long, disbelieving pause stretched between them as they came to terms with the fact that it was almost over, before Draco and Harry both began to sprint towards the cup.

It reminded Draco of their race during the second task in a way, both radiating desperation as they bolted through the hedges. Harry inched slightly ahead of Draco, so Draco did the only thing he knew how to do, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him back. Harry fell to the ground, and Draco laughed meanly as he took the lead.

The cup lay so close Draco could nearly taste it, and he stretched out his arm in preparation to grasp the handle.

Only, Harry happened to be unfairly fast, and he quickly managed to catch up with Draco. It was truly neck and neck, as they both stretched their fingers as far as they could stretch, both wanting nothing more than to snag a Hogwarts victory.

Fear overtaking his heart at the thought that Potter may actually win, Draco veered off course, slamming his shoulder into Harry's, and knocking them both onto the ground in a tangled heap of limbs.

“Get off me, Malfoy!” Harry yelled, as Draco struggled to keep him pinned to the ground. “Let’s just finish this already!”

“I’ll finish it!” Draco said, attempting to jump to his feet and complete the remaining distance to the cup. Harry, however, grabbed onto his ankles, causing him to fall back down. Harry dragged him back, and this time, he had Draco pinned down by the wrists, leering over him.

“This is ridiculous!” Harry roared, glaring intensely. “You’ve done so much - you’ve hurt so many people - all for a stupid cup!”

“If you think it’s so stupid, you’d let me get it!” Draco said, attempting to throw Harry off of him.

Harry did not move, his grip on Draco only tightening. “You are mental. Absolutely mad. You think you can just do whatever you want, but you can’t. Fame and glory - is that really worth innocent people’s dignity and respect?”

Draco continued to buck beneath him, doing his best to disregard Harry's speech.

“You don’t deserve the cup. You’ve done nothing but lie and cheat, and you are not a Champion.”

Draco let out a frustrated, animalistic growl as he continued to twist and flail.

“Do you know who does deserve to win?” Harry asked, and Draco paused in his struggle, chest heaving to answer.

“You’ll probably say yourself,” he spat, features twisted with rage.

Harry blinked, as if caught off guard by Draco’s answer. “No,” he said, softly. “No, I don’t deserve it either. I never even wanted to be a part of this...”

Harry's gaze drifted away from Draco to some invisible point that only he could see. After a moment, he snapped out of it, attention returning to Draco.

“Cedric Diggory,” he said. “That’s who deserves it. He’s never been anything but honest and fair. Or maybe Cho Chang deserves it. She’s smart, and she helped me stand up to you.”

Draco scoffed loudly. Cho Chang wasn't even in the Tournament - what was Potter's point in even bringing her up?

“Or Fleur Delacour. She’s confident, and super brave. Or Viktor Krum. He’s humble, and scary-good at Quidditch. Or Mad Eye Moody, the toughest auror there is. The point is, all the people you hurt are deserving of the winnings and-”

“What about S.G?” Draco asked.

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“What about S.G?” he repeated. “I kidnapped him too.”

“I don’t even know who that is,” Harry said coldly. “But I’d bet my life he’s hundreds of times more deserving than you, too.”

“So what?” Draco asked, mouth curling. “You want me to just let you have the win then? To admit what an awful person I am - Evil Draco Malfoy who needs to pretend to be someone else in order to win anything - and let Perfect Harry Potter save the day once again?”

Harry stared down at him for a long time without speaking. Draco huffed and turned his head to the side, unable to meet his good, pure, righteous glare for such an extended period of time. But when he looked back, surprisingly, all traces of anger had faded from his expression, leaving something soft and almost kind in its place. Understanding.

“No,” Harry said, voice laced with the wonder of a new idea. “I want you to take it with me.”

Draco gawked at him, sure he’s misheard. “You want me to…what?”

“Just take it with me,” Harry explained. “This has gone on long enough, and personally I want to go to bed. It’s still a Hogwarts victory either way. You can lie and say you’re Cedric Diggory to save face, or whatever, and I’ll even give you the money, so long as you promise to free everyone immediately. I’m sure they’ll all figure out a way to get their own personal revenge on you, and then everything will be back to normal again.”

Draco digested this, his mind churning. “First of all, how dare you suggest that I would need the money.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but it came off more fond than anything else.

“Second of all…” he chewed on his lip. “I suppose, that could work.”

Harry's face lit up, an actual grin spreading across his lips. “It’s going to look so weird, when two of me show up holding the cup.”

Harry finally got off of him, holding out a hand to help Draco to his feet. Draco glared at the hand for a moment, but took it all the same.

“You would love that, wouldn’t you, Potter?” Draco snapped. “Two of you. Self-obsessed sod.”

Harry threw his head back in exasperation, though Draco noticed his grin had not yet faded. “Oh, please. Malfoy, you are the most self-obsessed person I- you know what, whatever.”

They walked over to the shimmering cup, and a strange sense of joy spread over both boys as they realized it was all over, and they were about to become Hogwarts Champions.

“Let’s just finish this already,” Harry said. “On three?”

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three!” Together, they both thrusted their hands out to each grab a handle on the cup.

Draco felt a pull behind his navel, and the maze blurred around him as he spun to a new destination, the only thing rooting him being the handle of the cup.
He hadn’t known the cup was a Portkey, but he didn’t have very much time to think on this fact, for his back just slammed into the cold, hard ground.

The unexpected Portkey travel disoriented him, but not enough to stop the deep, unsettled feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach the moment he looked at his surroundings.

He didn't know where he was...but it definitely wasn't Hogwarts.