The Triwizard Tournament
Draco had managed to avoid Potter and find the compartment his friends had reserved before it was time to get changed into their Hogwarts robes.
As a bonus, Vince, Greg, and Pansy were nowhere to be seen.
It was nice, to spend some more time with Blaise and Theo, reminiscing over the time they’d spent at Malfoy Manor over the summer. Making up tales about the upcoming Quidditch season. Of course, there weren’t only the good things to talk about.
When Blaise asked about the World Cup, Theo suddenly mentioned his father being sick again. He had stayed with his aunt Theodora Nott in London, for most of the weeks he hadn’t spent at Malfoy Manor. She wasn’t as old as his father was, but still well on her way to it.
Therefore, it had been a time well spent reading the new school textbooks and getting familiar with the newest gossip on the streets of Diagon Alley. And he had even picked up some gold crumbs, proudly telling Draco and Blaise about the rumors of the Triwizard Tournament being held at Hogwarts this year. He hadn’t heard which schools would be present, which made speculation even more exciting.
“. . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster.”
Familiar but unsettling pictures of the death eaters in his house this summer flashed before Draco’s eyes.
“Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riffraff he says. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school so far away.”
And of course, there had been that little Vampire problem.
“Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . .”
Maybe it was the vampire in him speaking, but Draco felt like the Hogwarts curriculum was just too easy. There hadn’t been a spell that had ever gone wrong for him. With the right intent and the effect in mind there was nothing else to stop him, pronunciation and movement be damned.
“My grandma went to Uagadou. When I was little she used to tell me stories about it. You know, everyone is an animagus there, It’s more than allowed, sometimes even required in a class. And it must be the most beautiful place on earth.”
Blaise told them, nostalgia lighting up his face.
“I’ve heard it looks like it’s floating because it’s over the clouds.”
Theo added excitedly.
“I wanted to go there when I was younger, but after my grandmother died we had no family left in Togo, so we never went back to Africa.”
It was curious to see Blaise so sentimental and emotional, since the Slytherin was usually very reserved, and…well…arrogant.
“But I would’ve for sure dominated the curriculum there. I mean, it is after all Transfiguration cantered. And I’m already excited for Astrology this year. Granger will stand in my shadow for once.”
There it was.
“What schools are gonna come, you reckon?”
Draco asked curiously, looking from Theo, who sat beside him, over to Blaise who sat on the other side.
“Aren’t there always just the same three European schools? Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang.”
“I heard Beauxbatons has the prettiest witches in the wizarding world.”
Blaise grinned, kicking Theo and Draco’s legs playfully, and both laughed awkwardly.
Draco loved girls, women, witches. Of course, he did. He had just decided, that he wasn’t really in the mood for them right now. Which was understandable of course. He had to find the Vampire who turned him. And dating as a Vampire wasn’t that good of an idea anyway, so why bother?
“I’ve read a lot about Ilvermony. They are pretty brilliant. Maybe they’ll switch it up this time?”
Theo added he was absentmindedly twirling a loose string of Draco’s robe in his hand.
“Unlikely. European wizardry is all about tradition most of the time. They wouldn’t even try and mix it up.”
“Let’s just hope there aren’t any Durmstrang students arriving. They’re supposed to be pretty gruesome. We should at least get a chance to win.”
Draco complained.
“They get a way better education. It would just be unfair!”
“Don’t they have that Bulgarian Quidditch player in their school? The one that caught the snitch at the cup with that Wronski feint?”
“Wait he still goes to school?”
“Yeah, Victor Krum. Salazar, He’d destroy any of us.”
“I’m so gonna join and win. I’ll crush them all and take the fame and money for myself!”
Draco and Theo cackled at Blaise’s confidence.
“Merlin, Blaise, I’ve never met anyone as arrogant as you.”
Draco laughed.
“Excuse me? Have you met yourself? Tell me, will you join the Tournament?”
Draco hesitated.
Of course, winning the Triwizard Tournament had been a childhood dream of most wizarding kids. Draco included. And of course, someone as wealthy as a Malfoy didn’t care about the money. The fame, however, had a strong attraction.
His parent's pride?
His school’s glory?
For people from all over the world to know his name?
Wasn’t that a worthy price for a Malfoy?
But now, with his little problem, he wasn’t quite sure. Wasn’t it cheating if a vampire competed? And all the fame, for what? Did Draco want attention drawn to him and his…uniqueness?
“I think I will. Join in I mean.”
Theo remarked, making Blaise laugh.
“Only you’d die at the first task.”
“Shut up, I wouldn’t. I’d win against you anyway.”
Theo bunched both fists and stuck out his tongue.
“Very mature, and no you wouldn’t.”
“Draco! Tell him I’d win.”
“Not if I get picked as a champion.”
Draco grinned.
“Merlin, Shut up you two!”
-
After another while, when the train finally stopped at Hogsmeade station, all three of them were refreshed and excited for the months to come. This excitement as well as their nonstop chattering, didn’t waver during the horseless carriage drive up to the castle, -Theo, however, swore he did see creepy horse-like beings moving the carriage for the entire ride, but Blaise and Draco just laughed at him.
They didn’t stop talking when Hogwarts appeared outside their windows,-although blurry through all the heavy rain- nor during their walk towards the great hall. Even the first-year introduction and sorting, went by unnoticed by all three of them, who kept making jokes with some of their fellow Slytherin friends. The second year Astoria Greengrass, sat beside Draco during the feast and turned out to be way funnier than her sister Daphne ever had been, joking with the boys and her friends, who sat on her other side.
It was all the same boring stuff, anyway. So why bother listening? Of course, Snape wasn’t really happy about their constant disruptions, but he didn’t do much more than send them disapproving looks.
Draco, for once, didn’t care about his godfather's opinion. He was finally bonding with some other Slytherin aside from Blaise and Theo. He finally felt a little more normal, without his constant thirst for blood holding him back from connection with others. Maybe he really was cured. He felt pretty healthy and alive, so that must be a good thing.
He was so occupied with chatting up the crowd while munching on some delicious pork chop - Draco couldn’t believe how good food suddenly tasted since his little Vampire drought- that he didn’t even notice the famous Gryffindor blackhead staring at him the whole time.
Their chat did however come to a screeching halt after dinner, at Dumbledores’ speech, making them all turn their attention there as soon as they heard the dooming words: “The Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”
Protest came from every direction, though none as loud as the three Slytherin friends’. This was unbelievable. Why this year? Why not some other year? Last year there had been Demontors roaming around school grounds, but now suddenly the Quidditch season got cancelled?
Dumbledore went on, “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teacher’s time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-“
Suddenly Dumbledore was interrupted by the dramatic arrival of a man, whose entrance was underlined with heavy lightning and thunder.
He was an old disheveled man with long, messy grey hair and long behold, beside all the scars covering his entire face, there was the all-so-famous eye, large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue.
Mad was one way to describe him. He really did make his name justice.
Theo and Blaise exchanged startled looks with each other while the man walked up to the teacher's table, slightly limping. His leg made a hollow sound at every step.
Theo bumped into Draco’s leg with his own, throwing him a questioning look.
“Who’s that?”
“Mad-Eye Moody.”
“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody.”
Dumbledore chimed into the silence Once Moody had sat down.
Like it had preluded, Silence also followed, where there was usually applause.
“He looks…unappealing.”
Draco could hear one of his classmates whisper.
“What happened to his face?”
Another whispered intently.
“As I was saying,” Dumbledore went on smiling, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”
There was laughing and excitement in the air, surprise even, though not too much of that on the Slytherin table, given the connections most of their parents had.
“The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”
“Impartial judge?”
“What do they mean? I thought everyone would be able to join!”
“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be allowed to put for- ward their names for consideration.”
“WHAT?”
“This,— Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, to drown out the furious whispers and murmurs that were getting louder and louder— “is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champions. I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.”
“That’s just bullocks! That dement old fool doesn’t know one bit about security, so why implement restrictions now?”
A Slytherin fifth year, not far from Draco mumbled.
“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your wholehearted support to the Hogwarts champion when they are selected.”
“I’m not gonna support some Gryffindor dumbass!”
Another Slytherin whispered rather loudly, gaining approving mumbling from most others.
“And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!”
The night in the Slytherin common room was gonna be interesting.
-
“He’s a demented little slug!”
“I’ve never seen someone as incompetent!”
“This is simply unfair! Wait till my mother hears that!”
“They are just afraid we’d excel in every task.”
There were only a few of the curses that could be heard thrown around the Slytherin common room upon entering.
Slytherins, young and old, especially young though, were heatedly discussing either the Quidditch cancellation or the Tournament’s age restriction.
Blaise was ranting on next to Draco as well.
“He must have known that the Slytherin team was about to level up. He just didn’t want Gryffindor to lose the Quidditch Cup, like they did every year before Potter.”
Blaise kept reaching further and further. Honestly, it was a little amusing to Draco. Of course, he was furious too, but he had learned earlier in life that however much you sometimes cursed something, it wasn’t gonna go away.
“Maybe we can still join the Quidditch team.”
Draco supplied appealingly, seeing that neither of his friends was able to see something positive in their situation.
“For what though?”
Theo kicked the end of the rug before letting himself fall onto the massive black leather couch in front of the fireplace.
“Well, we could start training. Use the year to level our skills with the Gryffindors if not advance them. They’re not gonna train I reckon. But if we did, we’d come back even stronger next year!”
“Maybe we could ask Victor Krum to tutor us.”
Blaise added hopefully, while Draco sat down beside Theo. Alright, Blaise was reaching again. But this was still progress.
“I’ll talk to Flint right away!”
“Wait, we haven’t even had tryouts…”
But it was no use, Blaise was already at the table where the Quidditch Team was debating this year's changes, and Draco did not have enough energy to stand up.
Draco sighed, leaning into the leather cushions and staring into the greenish flames.
“Are you okay?”
Theo suddenly asked. His voice was quiet but thoughtful as if he cared. It still made Draco freeze up anyway.
“You seem a little different than this summer.”
Draco kept staring forward, not ready to face his friend.
“Different? What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t know. It’s nothing really. Just small things. You just seem a little more tired than usual. I’ve never seen you with bags under your eyes. It’s nothing bad though, really! I think it makes you seem a little more…human. It’s nice. Your face. I mean you. You’re always nice. Ehm...”
A small smile slithered itself on Draco’s lips.
“And I don’t mean that you weren’t human before…anyway, are you okay? You’re a little quiet.”
Was Draco Malfoy really about to talk about his feelings?
“It’s my dad. We kind of had a fight, after the Quidditch Cup. We haven’t really talked since, and I don’t really know whether we ever will again.”
There was silence between the boys. Before Theo could respond, however, Draco was talking again.
“Did you notice your father acting rather strangely as of late?”
“Well, he’s sick, so that’s a little strange but not really out of the norm-“
“No I mean- have you been in his office recently? Has he been in contact with all sorts of people that you don’t know?”
Theo put up his thinking face.
“I mean, there have been more and more owls as of recently, at the beginning of the summer at least. And-“
Suddenly the door to Slytherin's house burst open, giving way to the form of Severus Snape, covered in dark, black, shadowy gowns. Black eyes roamed the room.
“May I have your attention, Slytherins!”
The entire room fell silent.
“I know that the recent news wasn’t particularly well received by most students. In particular, by all of you.” He looked around at each one, meaningfully.
“But I may as well advise you to not try to figure out a way to outplay any of the rules that have been set. I know that most of you have a Knick for figuring out ways to defy rules or authority, especially our headmaster’s, but we Slytherins should show some sort of house fraternity, maybe even school loyalty.”
There was mumbling between a few three years, that fell silent, however, at just a look from their head of house.
“Therefore, I may advise you to not humiliate yourselves or your house by entering foolishly, or without abiding the rules. These games are dangerous and won’t just make up your curriculum or exams to go away. I expect all of you to show the arriving schools what it means to be a Slytherin, and what it means to be a Hogwarts student. While the others lose track of their school work you will all succeed. And we’re gonna win this house cup with ease.”
There were approving murmurs coming from the crowd.
“I expect from all of you to not be great but greater this year. And if there is gonna be a Slytherin champion, I expect them to win. Now, stop your plotting and go to bed. Tomorrow you’ll exceed!”