An Unlikely Team
“They’re all staring at me.”
“Harry, you're imagining things.”
“Look!” The boy gestured to a Gryffindor girl seated down the table who was leaning so far forward she was laying in her plate of potatoes, and Hermione watched resignedly as the girl fell back into her seat, shrieking and attempting to wipe off the potatoes. Sighing, Hermione turned to look back at Harry, attempting to smile.
“At least they’re not saying anything…” As if on cue, a group of Hufflepuff’s strode past, girls giggling behind a boy leading them who tapped Harry’s shoulder to say, “We all know who the real Champion is, Potter,” and getting all the girls behind him to giggle louder.
“Why can’t they pick on Malfoy for a change.” Harry grumbled, poking at his morning sausages moodily. “Because they know if they even get near him his crowd of fans will slug ‘em,” Ginny said as she sat down beside Harry. “I hear he can’t even go to the bathroom without Pansy and her girl’s on his heels.”
“Serves him right for putting my name in.” Harry grumbled and Hermione gasped, slapping his hand. “Don’t say that, Harry, no one knows who put your names in!” “Well it wasn’t me, Hermione! And we all know he has it out for me.” Harry laughed to himself, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I almost feel like Snape was right; Malfoy put my name in so he’d get to face me down where no rules applied. Maybe even hit me with the ki--”
“Harry!” Hermione silenced him quickly and he turned red, looking back down at his plate and loosening his grip on his fork--which had tightened without him so much as noticing. “Don’t say things like that! He’s just a boy, you know. Like you. Like us. He’s in our year you two would never…” She breathed in sharply, then out. “Kill each other.”
“Yeah but his dear ol’ Dad might, and I guarantee you the apple does not fall far from the tree. Not now at least.” Harry said, dropping his fork onto his plate and picking up his books before turning to march out of the Great Hall, ignoring the sniggering kids he passed with each step he took, or the glares from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.
He knew the truth; that Draco must have put their names in as a foolish prank, and who cares if they didn’t listen? He knew, and that’s all that mattered.
Even if Ron was among the people glaring as he passed.
-*-*-*-
Dear Sirius,
You told me to keep you posted on what’s happening at Hogwarts, so here goes--I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the Triwizard Tournament’s happening this year and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth champion alongside Draco Malfoy as fifth. I don’t know who put our names in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn’t, but I suspect it was Malfoy. The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff.
Hope you are well, and Buckbeak. - H.P.
-*-*-*-
Dear Father,
You shall be happy to know that against all odds (meaning despite the no underage wizards rule) I've been made champion for the Triwizard Tournament! Yes, due to your son's pure genius I have found a way to hijack Dumbledore's Age Line and admit my own name into the Goblet. Unfortunately, famous, brilliant, talented, really annoying, hand--DISGUSTING Harry Potter thought it'd be a fun time if he did so as well. But no matter, I promise you I will usurp Potter at his own game and become true champion of the Tournament, bringing home the prize of glory to you, of course. Though the other schools are angry at my… antics… They are getting their fair share of Champion's in return. This is shaping up to be one Triwizard Tournament for the record books, that's for sure.
Say hello to Mother for me,
Draco Malfoy
-*-*-*-
Harry could tell that the fact that two fourteen year olds were being allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament wasn't just offending the students--though of course a bunch of middle aged to old Professor's weren't jealous, simply annoyed. And maliciously angry, in McGonagall's case.
The only plus was that for her class, Charms, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures Harry was getting way less work than the kids around him. Though, of course, his Potions work was doubled, and one wrong move would probably land him a detention.
A detention he couldn't deal with on top of the already existing stress of everyone at school seeming to hate him, but worshiping Cedric and Malfoy. Including Ron (with the exception of the worshiping part).
And now he could thank the weekend for finally coming, for it meant that he might be able to relax at last, something he hadn't even dreamed of doing in the past week. If it wasn't Potions work it was avoiding traps set by kids out to get him, or suffering under the endless slander sent his way by almost the entirety of Slytherin House.
He had never imagined that the small percentage that ‘almost’ applied to would be a title held by Draco Malfoy, his original and one true bully himself. Come to think of it, through all of the bullying of this past week, he hadn’t even seen Malfoy, even in classes, the boy always seeming to hide from his gaze. It’s strange, since for years it has seemed their gazes have always met, even across all the other House tables in the Great Hall.
And now he didn’t even want to look at him.
What results is Hermione constantly calling him back to their work as she catches him focusing on Malfoy. Again. And again, and again, and--You get the point.
But now it is time to relax. Now it is time to eat his mashed potatoes, gravy, and beef in silence and pointedly avoid looking at the Slytherin’s, instead finding himself staring at Cho Chang, as he often does when trying to keep his mind off of things.
It’s starting to work. It’s just so easy to get lost in your head when you look at a girl like Cho, and Harry’s feeling the full force of that now, numbly biting into his slab of beef while eyeing her as she laughs with her friends. He reaches for his goblet to help swallow the dry meat down, but then she turns suddenly, and he chokes, looking away. When he finally manages to wipe butterbear off his chin she’s turned away again, completely focused on the newly appeared deserts.
He sighs, shaking his head. Sometimes looking at your crush is the opposite of relaxing.
“Potter?” Jolting, Harry spins around in his seat and is met suddenly with Professor McGonagall’s pointed stare that could well pass for a glare, the woman standing tall with her hands crossed in front of her. Beneath those cold eyes, he can see the usual anger that has accompanied all of his classes this week.
“Er--Yes, Professor?” Hermione has turned in her seat now too, spoon still in her mouth as she eyes McGonagall with wide eyes. McGonagall, curiously, doesn’t even acknowledge her, instead focusing on Harry. “Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with you.” She says then turns, nodding to the doors. “Come with me.”
Harry meets Hermione’s eyes and it’s almost a pleading “Help me” look, but, just as she had seven nights ago when his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, she simply pushed him off the bench, making him stand and stumble forwards. He felt McGonagall place what was supposed to be a calming hand on his back then, and lead him towards the doors, but falls into something of a void as they walk the now familiar path to Dumbledore’s office.
They climb step after step and don’t say a word. She walks briskly down halls and only sharply calls, “Keep up, Potter!” once or twice before they’ve come to the stone gargoyle. “Sherbert Lemon” is the password, and then they’re in.
The first thing Harry notices, is that right there, just as his thoughts had wondered to him minutes ago, was Draco Malfoy, sitting in one of the two seats set in front of Dumbledore’s desk, instead of just one. Harry can tell the seat beside the blonde almost beckons to him, and realizes immediately why he’s here. But that doesn’t mean the churning in his gut just goes away because of that. If anything, he can feel it growing worse, like a hungry monster inside of him.
“Harry,” Dumbledore’s voice, still slightly soft and wise, is mostly stern as he narrows his eyes onto the boy, nodding to the empty seat. “Come sit."
Harry's sure, positive, that that statement was meant to be taken kindly. But that's definitely not how it felt.
Still, with a gulp and a fidgety nudge from McGonagall, Potter stumbled forwards and took the seat beside Malfoy, who stayed staring pointedly forward, surely avoiding looking Harry's way by any means.
"Well, boys," Dumbledore's eyes flicked between them and then above them. "Professors," Harry only now noticed, as he turned in his seat to see anyone other than McGonagall, that Snape stood off in the corner, hiding in the shadows. He put two and two together quickly that he must have been the one to bring Draco here.
Despite being told many times McGonagall was on friendly terms with the Potions Master, Harry still felt himself feeling as if some thick wall of tension lay between the two seats, and the two sides of the room as a whole. Whenever Dumbledore spoke, he broke that tension, bringing attention back to where he sat passively neutral in the middle.
"We have come to quite a predicament. I think it unwise to give either of you any sort of punishment, as we may never know who really put your names in the Goblet of Fire, much less if it was either of you two. But, Mr. Crouch has pointed out to me a crucial rule; a Champion can be anyone who places their names into the Goblet. As the other Head’s are getting two more Champion’s each, they have also requested that we abide by this rule in your case, a sort of sorry measure for the troubles we have caused by your names being put in.”
Dumbledore throws his hands up, shrugging in a sign meant to be amusing, but Harry and Draco are left confused, blinking dubiously. “Excuse me?” Draco says, leaning forward slightly and McGonagall explains immediately.
“He’s saying due to the rules, and Karkaroff and Madame Maxime’s preferences, you two must compete as one.” “A team.” Snape clarifies, nodding to her, but the boy’s stay frozen in their seats, head turned upwards to the Transfiguration Professor, eyes as wide as saucers.
“What?” Harry blurts after a moment, and Dumbledore repeats, “You two will work together, gaining points for Hogwarts as a team. It will also, Ludo has kindly pointed out to me, help from any injuries occurring, with you two being underage.”
Still, Harry and Draco look highly dumbfounded. And rightfully so. The Headmaster might as well have told them to hug it out, as that would have been just as ridiculous as saying they now had to work as a team to win a Tournament neither of them wanted to be in in the first place, beyond expectations (Malfoy).
“Professor,” Draco leans even further towards Dumbledore, hands out in what might be considered a pleading gesture. “I… can’t work with him. I just can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” The old man asks, eyes peering over his half-moon spectacles in his usual playful way, one eyebrow raised. Draco is far from amused. “Can’t.” He says, while at the same time Harry says smartly beside him, “Won’t.” Remarkably, the blonde still resists the urge to turn to glare at him.
“Well, sadly that's how it is. Either you two find a way to put aside your differences and work together, or you'll be caught still enemies during the Task's, and an avoidable accident may occur.” The message is clear; they're gonna die if they continue to be as petty as they are now.
The boys stayed silent for a few too many moments, so McGonagall decided to speak. “Albus, might I suggest bringing the boys a bit closer to each other? Partners in classes, outings after, maybe even have them do rotations sitting at each other's tables?”
Both Potter and Malfoy turn in their seats quickly to give her a “please no, please no, please no” pleading look but she's not even looking, eyes set dead upon Dumbledore's. “They're impressionable. They'll be friends long before they know it.”
“Or maybe,” Now Snape spoke up, and the boys' heads snapped the other way around to plead with him. “If they might need a little convincing of the risk involved in the Tournament they've so foolishly entered themselves into, could we show them their first task?”
“Frighten them?” Dumbledore questioned at the same time McGonagall cried, “Absolutely not!” She then continued, “That's cheating!” Despite it being, clearly, cheating, Dumbledore seemed quite interested in that idea while Harry and Draco simply felt like the rope in a game of tug of war, and just wanted to go back to dinner. Or better yet, bed.
“I must say Severus, that is an interesting idea… You boys are both familiar with the Forbidden Forest right?” Harry nodded quickly, since the forest was quite a common place for him to go, whether it should’ve been or not. Draco, who was still secretly a little scared of the palace, hesitantly nodded, shifting in his seat a bit. McGonagall, meanwhile, looked appalled, both at Dumbledore’s consideration at breaking the rules when they were supposed to be mad at the boys doing so, and because she was offended he had simply ignored her so easily.
“So how about it? We go show you what you're in for in this Tournament, and then you reconsider a friendship? However temporary it may have to be.” Harry turned his head to face Draco, who did so as well, after a moment’s hesitation.
“Whad’ya say… mate?” Draco sneered, quite easily, looking off to the side pointedly. “Yeah, sure.” He growled, and Harry couldn’t help but smirk at how uncomfortable he looked.
“Well it’s settled then. Let’s go right now.” Dumbledore declared, clapping his hands together and standing from his seat, then turning his attention to McGonagall, who was still looking at him, wide eyed, but, for once, speechless. “Minerva, would you like to come along with us?”
No response.
“I’ll take that as a no.” And with a gesture of his hand, Dumbledore had indicated Snape to move forward and grab the boys shoulder, lifting them to their feet, before turning them around to face the door, where Dumbledore had already migrated to, with a warm smile despite Potter and Malfoy’s clear uncomfort.
“Are we ready?” With a final glance at each other, the boys stepped forward, it becoming clear to them then that they had nothing to lose. And no choice because, well, this was Professor Dumbledore, afterall.
-*-*-*-
“Look, I get you're not supposed to be able to apparate in Hogwarts grounds… But you’re Professor Dumbledore. Surely there are exceptions–”
“Is that so, Draco? Surely you are not content that I am already breaking the rules just by taking you boys into the woods tonight then, are you?” Dumbledore turned from where he led the teens, and Snape, though he stood behind them to make sure they didn't run, and raised a playful eyebrow at the Slytherin. “I understand your fatigue, both of you, but this is necessary. Take it as an extra lesson in case you really did put your own names in.”
All of these ‘punishments’ and ‘lessons’ were starting to get on the boys’ nerves, but they knew better than to speak up again after that, instead keeping to themselves as they trudged through the thick wood, pulling their cloaks around themselves tighter while they shivered in the cold.
They had already met with a very confused Hagrid, and now we're being led by him to wherever or whatever the first challenge was, getting increasingly anxious and increasingly cold. A couple times Hagrid had slowed his walk to talk in hushed tones to Dumbledore and while the boys couldn’t hear much, they did pick up the occasional words ‘why’ and ‘against the rules’ and ‘sorry.’ But Dumbledore was, as usual, giving up no reasons.
Eventually, Hagrid stopped and raised a hand for the others to as well, having led them to a clump of trees. Harry could barely catch sight of a faint orangish glow in the distance, between the thick branches, but could easily hear distant shouts and then, stopping all of them in their tracks as they came closer to where Hagrid stood, an ear splitting roar.
While Snape and Dumbledore remained standing reservedly put, curiosity overtook the boys without the need of their expectant gazes towards them, and Harry took the first couple steps forward, Draco soon following, if only out of spite.
Harry came to the edge, pushed a branch out of the way, squinted at the overwhelming light, then felt his mouth drop open to the floor, hearing the strained gasp of Draco beside him as he surely got sight of the same horrifying image.
Dragons.
Three, no five, no six, no… eight! Eight massive dragons were roaring and snapping their teeth while breathing massive jets of fire, enclosed in an unstable looking fence of planks, various men with whips and other tools surrounding them in a desperate attempt to calm their fury. They were blue, white, black, yellow, every color and type of dragon you could find, it seemed, and they were vicious looking.
And they made the fourteen year olds feel like the miniscule ants they were in comparison.
“And now, boys,” Dumbledore said as he came to stand between the rivals' heads. “You see how great the necessity is for you two to work together. For I don’t know about you,” A great big, black, lizard-like creature reared its head at the hidden watchers and roared, shooting out the biggest flame of orange that singed the tops of the very tree they stood below. “But I’d very much not like to be on the receiving end of a Hungarian Horntail.”
-*-*-*-
In the morning, Harry went straight for the Slytherin table. He knew he shouldn’t--making a plan with Hermione was most likely a lot smarter than prancing from the firing pan to the fire, but he also knew no one in their right mind at the Gryffindor table was going to let him go, so doing it quick and fast was probably best, and easiest. Like a band aid, he kept telling himself, like a band aid.
Sure enough, Malfoy was waiting for him.
The blonde had presumably distracted his mob of admirers with a box of what looked like plain green badges they were all pointing their wands at and whispering. When catching sight of Harry, the ones who weren’t immediately repulsed by his Gryffindor colors started snickering and jeering at him, but he was used to that sort of reaction from the Slytherins, so it was a lot easier to stomach than the rest of the schools mocking.
And Malfoy, for his part, didn’t seem entirely pleased with their reactions either, waving a hand to Crabbe and Goyle, who were still pinned to his sides, whispering an order to them, before turning to face the tan skinned jet black haired Gryffindor before him, one eyebrow raised.
“So, we’re actually doing this, huh?” He asked, picking up Goyle’s plate and setting it down at Harry’s new seat. The boy grimaced at the display of far too much food for a breakfast and nodded stiffly. “I guess so.”
“Well, if we are, then I’m just going to lay down some ground rules first, Potter.” Harry looked up, genuinely curious, as Draco took a swig from his goblet before leaning forward, hands clasped all business like, as if he was mocking his no-good-dirty-rotten-son-of-a-gun father. “Firstly, I’m not helping you with any school work, and I promise if you don’t pester me like the foul pest you are I won’t copy off of yours, but I believe an hour or two devoted to the library to study up on ways to counter these… Dragons… would prove useful.” He waited, and so Harry gave a second nod. “Secondly, just know the only reason I’m going to Hogsmeade with you is so I can get away from Pansy and her girls, but once we have them off our trail while there, we’ll go our separate ways and come back jolly as chums to Dumbledore, alright?” Another nod. “Great. Finally, and this is the most important one of all, you have to swear on your mudblood mother’s grave that you won’t tell anyone about this after the Tournament. If my father hears about this--”
“I swear upon my parent’s,” Harry cut off, looking genuinely sincere while hiding a smirk threatening to creep upon his lips. “That no one shall know of the forced allegiance between us after this year. Alright?” Draco grimaced, but nodded slowly, side eyeing the Professor’s table above them. “Yeah, yeah, alright… Hey, we better make this look convincing, eh Potter? For them?” He nodded over to the adults who were all peering down upon them with a disturbing amount of interest.
“I guess… Let’s shake hands. Then it will look like we’re really becoming friends, right?” Harry stood and held out his hand across the table towards Malfoy, who looked from his palm to his face in a surprisingly passive amount of disgust, before rolling his eyes and seemingly giving in. “Yeah, okay, I see your point… Let’s just get this over with.” He stood and slowly, as if hesitating every second, pushed his hand towards the Potter boy’s.
They locked and shook their hands firmly, once, then lingered, as if unsure what to do next. Then, as if a light bulb had suddenly clicked above his head, Harry seemed to think of something, and grinned, giving Draco a wink with the side of his face not facing the Professor’s while saying, “Hi, I’m Harry Potter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Draco raised an eyebrow then, starting to smirk, responded with, “The name’s Malfoy. Draco, Malfoy. The pleasure is all mine…” He hesitated, then, “Har-ry.”
The name seemed foreign and quite distasteful on his Slytherin tongue, but Harry, quite thankfully, resisted the urge to mock how shaky his voice sounded while sounding out the two syllables, instead simply letting go of his cold hand and sitting himself down again, saying, with a seemingly genuine smile this time, “I hope we can be friends… Draco.” It was admittedly easier for him to say.
And while the Gryffindor started to eat then, abandoning the conversation and content with how it ended, he didn’t miss how the Slytherin, while picking up a fork and sticking it into his eggs, whispered, as quiet as can be, most definitely so as not to be heard, “Me too.”
Up above them, seated at their long table with their hands crossed together neatly and their eyes twinkling in something like triumph, McGonagall and Dumbledore glanced at each other and grinned, looking over to Snape, who hummed something of an approval before turning back to his conversation with Moody. And while Minerva went back to contently eating her breakfast, Albus’ eyes remained on the boys, different in almost every way who had, by his design, voluntarily come together that morning, the push of a threat all that was required, but going farther, much farther, than they altogether really needed too.
Malfoy. Mal-Foi. It means ‘bad faith’, in… French, he believed. And in latin it meant ‘evil’? No, it meant ‘was evil’. Yes, he was certain of that. Yes, maybe there was hope for the blonde boy who made all the wrong choices after all.
-*-*-*-
Harry--
I can’t say everything I would like to in a letter, it’s too risky in case the owl is intercepted--we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o’clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?
I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore’s nose, and especially adding a Death Eater’s--sorry, “former” Death Eater’s son into the mix.
Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.
Sirius
-*-*-*-
Draco,
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but there was too much at stake, and this was never meant to happen. I know you didn’t put your name in that Goblet, and I know who did, but I don’t know why. I can’t tell you everything now--it’s a great risk to us (your Mother and I) just telling you this, but I knew I had too. Don’t do anything too reckless, don’t reveal anything about anything you may know or think you know, and please, for the sake of your Mother, try to survive.
It’s clear someone is out for blood here, and while I know who, as I said before, I don’t know why. Don’t ask, don’t contact me again, for both our safety, just keep to yourself.
Stay safe,
Your Father,
Lucius Malfoy.