Nearly

Harry’s finally falls into a fitfull sleep, but it’s plagued by nightmares and not the usual one but rather fragmented pieces of the World Cup; one minute he’s dancing with Draco and the next minute Narcissa is dragging them through the woods and he can’t breathe… Then suddenly he’s alone in the dark and there are disembodied silvery white faces looming out of the darkness all around him, floating closer, laughing evilly as they surround him… 

The third time he startles awake, shivering with cold seat and choking on his own laboured breathing, Harry decides to get up. So he peels his soaked pyjamas off and changes into a pair of slacks and a tee, then follows the soothing sound of his dads murmured voices out into the kitchen. 

Sirius and Remus immediately fall silent as he shuffles over the threshold and Remus shoots up from his seat and hurries over to the stove to pour him some hot chocolate. Even before Harry’s got his hands wrapped around the mug, he feels warmer… 

”How are you feeling, pup?” Remus asks him gently, carding his fingers through his sweat-damp hair as he hands him the steaming mug. 

”Better…” Harry mumbles. 

”Have a seat, sweetheart…” 

Harry sinks down on the chair and slumps over the table, blowing on the hot chocolate absent-mindedly and not until he’s taken a couple of cautious sips does he look up at his dads across the table and with a deep, steeling breath he starts to tell them everything. 

Remus and Sirius nod sympathetically, but they don’t look remotely shocked by anything he says, not even the part about men in masks torturing muggles. Harry frowns. Could his dads really have suspected something like that might happen? Or why aren’t they more surprised?

”Well, thank Merlin you’re all right…” Remus says when he falls silent. ”I must remember to send Narcissa an owl and thank her for getting you to safety.”

”You’re not… mad?” Harry asks carefully. 

”With Narcissa? No, no, she behaved admirably… And no, we’re not mad at Draco either.”

”Just… Lucius”, Harry guesses, looking between his dads to gauge their reaction. ”You think he was one of the men in masks, don’t you?”

”Yes”, Sirius says plainly. 

Harry nods, swallowing hard. It never even occurred to him at the time, but now that he’s had some time to think and process everything, it’s the only thing that makes sense… Also, that would explain the look Draco and Narcissa shared, and it would also explain what Draco meant when he said ”They won’t harm me…”

”I do too”, Harry mumbles. ”What does it mean, though?”

His dads exchange an uncomfortable look, but then Sirius twists around in his chair and grabs the Daily Prophet from the counter behind him. He unfolds it and tosses it unceremoniously on the table in front of Harry. 

The whole front page is taken up by a large photograph of a patch of sky with a weird, moving cloud shaped like a gaping skull and from inside of its mouth slithers a giant snake… Harry doesn’t know what it means and still it makes the hairs in the back of his neck stand. He tears his eyes away from the picture and reads the headline: Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup

”What… What is it?” he asks uncertainly, dreading the answer. 

”It’s called a Dark Mark”, Remus says in an oddly hushed voice that makes the whole thing seem even more terrifying than it already is. ”It’s You-Know-Who’s mark, Harry… Those men in masks you saw… They were Death Eaters.”

”Death Eaters?” Harry repeats fearfully. 

”You-Know-Who’s followers”, Remus explains. ”Back when You-Know-Who was still… still in possession of his powers… He and his Death Eaters used to conjure the Dark Mark over any place where they’d…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. ”Where they’d killed… It therefore became the symbol of the terror the wizarding community felt at the time… No-one’s seen a Dark Mark in thirteen years, until last night, but… We don’t know exactly what it means, or who conjured it last night.”

”You mean it wasn’t those… those Death Eaters who did it?”

Remus looks unsure, but shakes his head, ”According to the article in the Prophet, they all Disapparated as soon as it was conjured… which makes sense when you think about it. All the Death Eaters who avoided Azkaban thirteen years ago all did so by denying any involvement with You-Know-Who in the first place or by betraying their friends, so I reckon they’re even more terrified of the idea of his return than the rest of us.”

”Think someone could have conjured it just to scare the Death Eaters away?” Harry asks curiously as the thought hits him and both his dads smirk fondly at him. ”What?”

”Sometimes I forget you’re a Slytherin, Harry”, Sirius says. ”And then you go and say something like that… But no, as cunning as that would have been, only the Death Eaters ever knew how to conjure the Dark Mark, so even though it wasn’t conjured by any of those drunk idiots last night, whoever did conjure it was also a Death Eater…”

Harry nods. He feels weighted down somehow, like all this new information is a heavy blanket draped over his shoulders and no matter how much he tries to shrug it off it just won’t leave him again… 

”I’m sorry about all this, Harry”, Remus says. ”But did you at least have a good time before this happened? How was the match?”

Perking up slightly, Harry nods and eagerly starts to describe the whole match from memory and by the time he gets to Victor Krum pulling off the Wronski Feint, he’s so excited he can barely stay seated. 

”It was amazing! I wish you could have been there and seen it — Oh!” he exclaims as he remembers his omniculars and realises the play-by-play function might still be possible, even after the fact. ”Actually, maybe you can! Hang on, be right back—!”

He hops off his chair and hurries out of the kitchen again, running through the hallway and skidding to a stop inside the door of his bedroom, looking around until he spots his rucksack tossed into a corner and immediately throws himself over it and starts digging through his toiletries and used pants, looking for the omniculars, but they’re not in the bag at all… Nor is his wand, he realises with a jolt of panic. 

Running back out into the kitchen, he tells him dads he must have forgotten the omniculars and his wand in the Malfoy’s tent or dropped them in the woods. 

”It’s okay, Harry”, Remus says calmly. ”They’re just things. They can be replaced.”

”But I need my wand”, Harry says. ”I need my wand, I start school in a few days!”

”We can get you a new wand, Harry, it’s okay…”

”But I don’t want another wand, I want my wand”, he insists, his breath hitching. 

”I know, pup…” he says soothingly. ”And I’m sure we’ll find it, I’m sure you just left it behind in the tent, but if you dropped it in the woods, it’s not the end of the world… Come on, calm down, have some more chocolate…”

Chocolate doesn’t solve everything, Harry wants to scream but he manages to bite his tongue and just lets out a half-sob and turns back around and shuffles back to his room. He throws himself face down on his bed and puts the pillow over his head, muffling Hedwig’s hoots and his dads murmured voices from the kitchen, and before long, he’s dozed off again. 

The next time he wakes up, his dads are still talking out in the kitchen but there’s also a third voice mixed in with theirs. Harry throws the pillow aside and sits up, listening… Yeah, definitely a third voice, a woman’s… He can’t make out any words though, so he scrambles off the bed and walks back out into the kitchen. 

”Thank you again”, Remus says, shaking the hand of an official-looking witch wearing scarlet robes and horn-rimmed glasses. ”Oh, here he is… Harry, this is Madam Bones from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She’s come to give you back your wand.”

”My wand?” Harry says, hardly daring to believe it. ”You found it?”

”In a manner of speaking…” Madam Bones says with a polite smile. ”Mr Potter, would you mind if I asked you a quick couple of questions about last night?”

”Yeah, sure…” Harry says, looking to his daddy for reassurance and receiving a smile. 

”When is the last time you remember having your wand?”

”Oh, um, I’m not sure… I mean, I must have had it when we left the Manor, but I never used it at the World Cup so I could have lost it at any time, I suppose…”

”You had seats in the Top Box, didn’t you?”

”Yeah, Mr Malfoy got them from the Minister”, Harry says, wondering why the witch would ask about that, thinking maybe that’s where they found his wand… But that doesn’t make any sense, why would it just have fallen out of my pocket, it’s never done that before…

”And do you remember a house-elf sitting in the Top Box?” Madam Bones asks. 

Harry blinks, non-plussed, because — although he does remember the house-elf that sat two seats away from him with its face hidden in its trembling hands for the entire duration of the match, saving the empty seat between its own and Harry’s for Barty Crouch who never even turned up — Harry’s completely confused as to where this line of questioning is going… Because between the Death Eaters and the Dark Mark, who gives a damn about a shy house-elf? 

Hey, that’s a good point, he thinks. Why would an Auror come and deliver my wand in person if it was just found in the Top Box? And why would she be asking questions at all, if she’s just delivering a lost wand? Surely the Auror Department has better things to be getting on with after the Dark Mark has been conjured for the first time in thirteen years?

”Harry…” Remus prompts gently. ”Answer the question.”

”Y-Yeah, there was a house-elf, two seats over from me”, he says quickly. ”She was saving a seat for her master…”

”Barty Crouch?” Madam Bones interjects. 

”Yeah”, Harry nods. ”But what’s that got to do with my wand?”

”And you didn’t notice the house-elf move out of her seat at any point during the match?” Madam Bones asks, ignoring Harry’s own question. ”You didn’t see her reach out or move closer to you?”

”To me?” Harry says, frowning in confusion. ”No…”

”And you’re sure you don’t remember if you still had your wand on you as you left the Top Box?”

”No”, Harry says again. ”Is that where you found it?”

Madam Bones looks over at Remus and Sirius and gives them a pinched smile. Sirius stands up and so does Madam Bones. She follows Sirius over to the doorway, but pauses on the threshold to give Harry a kind smile and says, ”It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter…”

As Sirius walks Madam Bones to the door, Harry turns questioning eyes on Remus who heaves a heavy sigh and leans back in his chair. 

”That house-elf of Barty Crouch’s”, he says. ”She was found at the scene of the crime and she had your wand in her possession… They checked it and… it had been used to conjure the Dark Mark.”

”What?” Harry says. ”Someone used my wand to conjure it?”

”Yes… They believe the elf might have done it, but…” he shakes his head. 

”But… Dad said only Death Eaters could conjure it?”

”I know… It’s absurd to even suggest a house-elf could have done it, but… She did have your wand on her. I guess she could have found it. We’ll never know for sure… But at least you got it back!”

Harry nods, sinking down in his seat at the table. 

”I owled Narcissa”, Remus tells him. ”She just owled back a while ago. Everyone made it home safely and Draco says to tell you he’s looking forward to seeing you at Hogsmeade Station on the first…”

*

Even though Harry wakes up fairly early on the first of September, because of the depressing sight of heavy rain pelting his window — and because for the last time this year he actually can — he enjoys a very long lie-in. In fact he stays curled up under the covers, half-asleep well into the afternoon, until Remus knocks on the door to his room and demands he get up, if he wants any lunch before he has to make his way over to the Station. Stomach growling at the mention of food, Harry stretches lazily and with a yawnn he kicks the cover off and drags himself out of bed. 

Despite trying to appear stern and tutting over his son’s laziness, Remus can’t help himself and ends up doting on him for the rest of the afternoon, obviously making the most of their last hours together and getting more and more misty-eyed as evening falls. 

Finally, they get ready to face the storm outside and make their way across Hogsmeade town, huddled together under an umbrella that is nearly snatched out of Remus’s hand by the wind several times before they finally reach the station. They enter the small waiting room and warm up while they wait for the Hogwarts Express to roll into the station and Remus lets Harry put his freezing hands inside his robes to warm them up. Harry gratefully fists the material of his daddy’s jumper and relishes the extreme body heat radiating from underneath.

”You’re always just the right temperature”, he muses. 

Remus chuckles and combs Harry’s damp hair out of his face with his fingers and strokes his head fondly. 

”Being a werewolf has some perks…” he says with a wry smile, then wraps his robes and arms around Harry’s smaller body and hugs him close, rubbing his back. 

”Definitely…” Harry agrees and cuddles closer, resting his head over his daddy’s heart.

The Hogwarts Express finally emerges through the darkness and pulls into the platform. Remus gives Harry a final kiss on the forehead, then unwraps him from his robes. Harry shivers as the evening wind whips him once more, but steps away from his daddy and grabs his trunk. 

”Now behave yourself…” Remus says. 

”I will”, Harry says with a grin. 

”I mean it, Harry!”

”I know! I will, I promise!”

”All right, then…” Remus mutters reluctantly. ”Owl us in the morning and let us know what weekends you’re allowed to Hogsmeade. Hopefully I’ll see you on the first one… If not, I’ll see you at Christmas.”

”Okay”, Harry says and steals a last hug, before dragging his trunk towards the horseless carriages and waving goodbye before getting into the first one. 

He’s soon joined by his friends, who must have either been the first off the train or elbowed their way to the front of the queue to get to the first carriage, knowing Harry would be in that one, but either way, Harry is too happ y to see them — Draco in particular — to care and he just beams as they clamber inside and take their seats around him. 

Draco leans in to give him a quick peck on the lips and gives him a pinched smile in greeting, but Harry immediately spots the tension around his eyes and frowns. 

”Are you all right?” he asks worriedly. 

”I am now…” Draco says, his smile softening slightly. 

”Ugh…” Seamus says and slouches down in his seat, glaring half-heartedly at the both of them. 

”Shut up”, Blaise huffs. ”Remember last year? Now, which do you prefer, because I happen to think this is a vast improvement…”

”Yeah, I suppose…” the Irish boy mutters, then gives Harry a wink to show he’s only teasing. 

With a jostle that knocks the boys together, their carriage begins to move and to the background noise of squeaking wheels and squelching mud, they begin the journey around the outskirts of Hogsmeade towards Hogwarts.

Finally their carriage comes to a stop below the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors of the castle. Harry hops down and immediately bows his head, covering it with both arms against as he runs up the stairs. Not until he’s safely inside the massive Entrance Hall does he look up and shake his wet hair out of his face. Draco performs a quick drying charm on himself, then does the same to Harry who grins his thanks. 

They make their way inside the Great Hall, looking larger than ever when almost deserted, since most of the students have yet to arrive and take their seats at one of the four House tables. Harry and his friends make their way over to the long table on the far right — the Slytherin table, distinctive only by the subtle splash of green in the folded napkins on top of the golden plates — and choose to sit down in the middle, not too close to the doors nor next to the new first-years. 

When a fifth of the student body has found their way inside the Great Hall and settled in their seats, a loud yell can be heard from just outside the doors, followed almost immediately by several panicked shrieks and outraged screams. 

Several of the professors react in alarm and Harry can see both Dumbledore and Professor Snape instinctively stand up, but it is Professor McGonagall who strides around the Head Table and runs down the middle aisle and disappears through the doors. 

”PEEVES!” they hear her holler almost as soon as she’s disappeared out of sight, and there is a collective sigh of relief in the Hall, because as annoying as the Poltergeist can doubtlessly be, he never poses any real danger.

”Wonder what prank he’s pulled this time, and on whom?” Harry says as the Head of Gryffindor House continues to yell and the Poltergeist cackles.

The others hum in agreement and glancing over at Draco, Harry imagines he can detect a small flicker of amusement, and maybe even hope, in the other boy’s eyes as he gazes over at the doors and Harry wonders what — or whom — had popped into the blonde’s mind, but quickly decides that he really doesn’t want to know…

”Well, move along then!” they can hear Professor McGonagall bark as the Poltergeist’s cackles have faded away, presumably as he’s finally decided to surrender and zoom away, deeper inside the castle, to plot his next practical joke. ”Into the Great Hall, come on!”

The rest of the students trudge through the doors, lead by Hermione Granger and a very wet-looking Ron Weasley who seems to be muttering furiously. Harry tries to catch the boy’s eye, but he walks past the Slytherin table without looking up, wringing water from his soaked robes as he follows Granger to the long table at the opposite side of the Hall. 

”Hiya, Harry!” a high-pitched voice pipes up to his left, causing him to jump slightly. 

He turns to see a very excited, and equally soaked, Colin Creevey wave at him as he too walks past the Slytherin table to get to the Gryffindor table at the far end. Harry warily gives the boy a single wave back. Next to him, Draco snorts. 

”Shut up…” Harry mutters. 

”I’m beginning to think you like having your own fan-boy…”

”Shut up…”

”What is it with you and the Gryffindors”, Blaise says. 

”Nothing!” Harry snaps, then tilts his head back with a sigh. ”Merlin, I hope the Sorting is quick, I’m starving…”

Dark, rolling clouds are gathered inside the vault of the enchanted ceiling and as another muffled thunderclap can be heard from outside, they flash brightly from the lightening… Now safely inside the castle and finally starting to feel warm and dry again, Harry can actually appreciate the beauty of the storm. 

His musings are interrupted by the low creak of the doors opening again and he tilts his head back down to see the stern-faced Professor McGonagall come striding inside the Hall, herding the small group of first-years like a mother duck might lead a line of ducklings. The thought makes Harry smile. 

Professor McGonagall leads the first-years to the front of the Great Hall and instructs them to gather around the three-legged stool she places below the Head Table and the children stare in confusion as she then places the Sorting Hat on top of it. 

Harry remembers his own thoughts as he stood in their place and stared as the dirty and patched-up old hat had suddenly sprung to life and started to sing… The new first-years startle in a similar fashion now and Harry and his friends exchange amused smirks each other. 

As the Sorting Hat’s final bars fade out, Professor McGonagall unrolls her parchement and begins calling the new students in alphabetical order to be Sorted. Harry joins his fellow Slytherins in applauding everyone who gets Sorted into their house and makes a point of catching a glimpse of each of their young faces to commit them to memory — not that he’ll have much contact with them, being a fourth-year himself — but it seems only right that he be able recognise his fellow Slytherins when passing them in the corridors, and somehow it feels like cheating to go by the badges on their school robes or the colours of their scarves.

As the last student is Sorted and Professor McGonagall removes the Sorting Hat and its stool again, Professor Dumbledore stands up and sweeps his twinkling gaze over the lot of them with a kind smile. 

Please, keep it short, Please, keep it short, Harry thinks desperately, feeling like his stomach lining has begun to eat itself…

”I have only two words to say to you”, the Headmaster says in his booming voice, holding his arms out so that the light from all the levitated candles in the Hall catches on the many stars and moons embroidered on his emerald green robe sleeves, making them twinkle. ”Tuck in!”

Yesss, Harry thinks in relief and throws himself over the nearest dish as soon as the food magically appears on the table in front of him.

Draco doesn’t show quite as much as eagerness over the prospect of being fed, but he too reaches for a dish almost immediately and Harry is — perhaps disproportionately so — happy to see him fill his plate with a lot more food than he normally would. He takes his sweet time, as always, but he does finish everything on his plate and Harry barely refrains from offering him some kind of encouragement, but thinks better of it at the last minute and bites his tongue. 

As soon as both the first course and the puddings that magically replaced it has been cleared and replaced with sparkling clean plates, Professor Dumbledore stands again. The idle chatter around the Hall immediately dies down and everyone turns to give the Headmaster their full attention.

”So, now that we are all fed and watered”, he says gently, smiling down at them. ”I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices… Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frosbees and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it…”

Harry snorts — like that’s going to happen! — and next to him Draco sneers, probably thinking the same thing, but all Harry can think is how uncannily like his father he looks when he pulls a face like that and it makes Harry feel quite ill at ease. Shaking his head slightly, he focuses on the Headmaster again, even as he sternly reminds himself that Draco is nothing like his father, other than in looks!

”As ever, I would like to remind you all”, Dumbledore continues. ”that the forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to those below third year… It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

”What?” Harry hisses, but it’s completely drowned out by the reactions of the rest of the students, some of which — the four Team Captains in particular — are a lot louder.

Dumbledore raises his arms again, this time to wave his hands in a placating manner, but it does nothing to appease the student body, twinkling embroidery or not, and Harry glances over at the Slytherin Team Captain Marcus Flint, expecting to see a thunderous expression on the boy’s face, but the glare he’s directing at the Headmaster is actually one of pure hatred, and on his right Adrian Pucey is watching his friend and fellow team mate with worry, as if expecting him to either spontaneously combust or fly out of his seat and attempt to attack the Headmaster and get himself expelled. 

”This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year”, Dumbledore says in a loud, carrying voice that echoes around the Hall despite the unhappy buzz. ”It will take up much of the teachers’ time and energy, but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —”

But before the Headmaster can finish the announcement, the doors to the Great Hall flies open with a bang made even more impressive by the accompaniment of deafening thunder. Everyone startles and turns around in their seats, staring at the spectacle of a man framed in the doorway, leaning heavily on a long staff. As he lowers the hood of his travel cloak and shakes out his long, grizzled grey hair, sending droplets of water flying off him in all directions, they can all see mangled face — or rather what’s left of it, which isn’t much — amongst the heavy scarring a mouth can be seen, but it looks more like a gash than anything with lips. His nose is missing a large chunk, revealing the two holes underneath and giving the illusion of a skull, only with most of its skin still draped over it, except definitely half-rotted… But the most unsettling feature of the man’s face, Harry thinks, is the eyes… Well, one of the eyes at least, and it isn’t the dark and beady one… It’s the large, electric blue one that keeps swivelling around frantically, without blinking. It rolls up and down, from side to side, and as the man starts to limp further inside the Great Hall, Harry catches the eye swivel all the way back into the man’s skull, before he’s limped past the Slytheirn table. 

The man limps all the way to the front of the Hall and shakes Dumbledore’s hand, before taking the empty seat at the Head Table. 

”May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher”, Dumbledore says, breaking the stunned silence. ”Professor Moody!”

He claps his hands enthusiastically, and the other teachers join in, albeit less enthusiastically but that’s always the case, Harry has learned. The students don’t join in, which is a first, and a testament to the shock they must all have experienced at the sight of this Moody — who doesn’t appear to care one way or the other, by the way, Harry thinks studying the man’s face as he begins to chew on a piece of sausage after having given it a suspiscious sniff first… He then reaches into his cloak and pulls out a hip-flask that he takes a generous swig from, and Harry lets out an incredulous but amused breath. He looks over at his friends across the table. Blaise’s eyebrow is raised and Seamus is out-right grinning. 

DADA might still be interesting this year, Harry thinks, even without daddy teaching… Moody, he thinks then. The name rings a bell, but he can’t put his finger on it… 

”As I was saying”,  Dumbledore continues, turning back to face the students. ”We are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which 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.”

”You’re joking!” one of the Weasley twins says loudly over at the Gryffindor table, finally breaking the tension in the room and making the other students laugh. 

”I am not joking, Mr Weasley”, Dumbledore says with a light chuckle, his eyes twinkling more than ever. ”Though, now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar —”

Professor McGonagall clears her throat loudly and gives the Headmaster a meaningful look, throwing him off and he gives his Deputy an unsure look. 

”Er — but maybe this is not the time? — No — Where was I?… Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… Well, some of you will not know what the Tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation…”

Harry tunes out the rest, letting his mind race… The Triwizard Tournament, here at Hogwarts… He can barely believe it. The Tournament is legend. His dads told him stories about it when he was a small boy. And never did he believe that in a million years he would actually have a chance of experiencing it first hand, since it’s been banned for over a century, because of the many fatalities… 

”Our own Department of International Magical Co-operation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt”, Dumbledore says as Harry tunes back in. ”We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger… 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 on Hallowe’en…”

”Think Viktor Krum will come here?” Seamus whispers excitedly across the table. ”How awesome would it be to go to school with him for a whole year!”

”Viktor Krum? What do you mean?” Harry says. 

”He goes to Durmstrang! Didn’t you know?”

Harry just shakes his head… His mind flashes to the Bulgarian Seeker at the World Cup and his bold stunts, like the Wronski Feint… Yeah, it would be awesome indeed, he thinks. 

”Draco, didn’t you nearly end up going to Durmstrang?” Blaise whispers. 

”Yeah…” Draco mumbles and nods slightly, without tearing his eyes away from the Headmaster. 

Harry whips his head around and blinks at the blonde in surprise, feeling all sorts of unease at the idea that he and Draco might never have known each other, that that had ever been a possibility, maybe even a close one, and he never even realised. 

”Father wanted to send me there, but mother refused”, Draco adds in an undertone. ”She didn’t want me that far away from home.”

Harry swallows down the lump in his throat and tells himself sternly that there is absolutely nothing to feel uneasy about. Draco didn’t go to Durmstrang and they do know each other. They know each other very well, in fact. 

”How far away is it?” Harry asks, forcing himself to focus on something else other than the tight sensation in his chest. ”Where is it?”

”Siberia”, Draco says, then turns to Harry and lowers his voice even further. ”Father is aquainted with Igor Karkaroff who runs it… If he’s coming here, Father definitely might drop by for a visit.”

Harry nods in understanding. They’ll need to be very careful…

”Eager though I know all of you are to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts”, Dumbledore continues after a moment of letting the news sink in and the students all fall silent once more and give him their full attention. ”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 — are allowed to put forward their names for consideration—”

There is an uproar of protest amongst the students, but Harry clearly hear Draco’s muttered ”Good” and catches his sidelong look. 

”Oh, like I was going to put my name forward”, Harry mutters sarcastically.

Draco gives him a disbelieving look and Harry rolls his eyes, ”I wasn’t, I wouldn’t. My dads would kill me…”

As they enter their new dormitory — identical to the dormitories they’ve had in their previous years — Harry makes a beeline for the four-poster bed furthest from the door and closest to one of the two windows facing the depths of the lake, used to the soothing sound of underwater waves lulling him to sleep and the pleasant, dull green light waking him in the morning. 

As he turns around to perch on the side of the bed so he can take his boots off, his heart lurches at the sight of Draco claiming the bed next to him. Harry and Draco had slept next to each other their first two years at Hogwarts, but exactly a year ago to this night — to this minute — Draco had made a point of choosing the bed furthest from Harry’s, that had been Crabbe’s in the years previous, and it had really hammered Draco’s point across in the worst, most heart-breaking manner possible… Harry remembers crying himself to sleep that night… He remembers it like it was yesterday, yet at the same time it feels like a whole lifetime ago considering how much has happened since then, in Harry’s life and between him and Draco as well. Mostly good things, he thinks and looks over at the blonde again with a smile. At least recently. 

Draco’s gaze flickers up to meet his through his lashes. There’s an unreadable expression on his face, but Harry is sure he is remembering as well… I wonder if he cried himself to sleep that night too…

That thought is even more heart-wrenching to Harry who is gripped by a very sudden, very violent and — he’s aware — very unrealistic conviction that he must make sure the other boy will never have anything to cry about every again! 

Snorting softly to himself, he pulls his pyjama top over his head and climbs into bed, sure he just channelled his inner Remus and feeling quite good about it… He falls asleep grinning into his pillow and dreams of flying with Draco, higher and higher in the sky as it keeps lighting up, forked lightening bursting through the thick clouds all around them like a brilliant fence, but it doesn’t feel scary at all even though it probably should, but Harry just knows the storm can’t touch them… They finally come together in mid-air, kissing, caressing, fisting each other’s hair, their broomsticks knock together as they try to get closer…

Remembering the dream when he wakes up the next morning, Harry blushes furiously and before he gets out of bed he quickly looks down to make sure there is no evidence of exactly what kind of dreams he’s been having, knowing that his friends will mercilessly take the mick out of him for the rest of the — year, probably, if they find out… Although, Harry’s sure they’ve all had dreams like that on more than one occasion themselves.

The door to the dorm slides open and Draco walks in, towelling his wet hair and even though he’s completely decent in his trousers and tee, Harry’s blush immediately comes back full force… The blonde gives him a weird look, but doesn’t comment, just tells him to get a move on or they’re going to be late for their first lesson. Which is technically true, but only because Draco himself takes ages finishing his breakfast and Harry, being the gentleman that he is, keeps him company instead of spending those extra minutes in bed. 

Harry reaches out and grabs Draco’s hand and reins him in. The blonde immediately tenses up and looks around quickly, but relaxes again when he realises the dorm is empty. 

”See, sleepy-head”, he mumbles as Harry pulls him closer. ”Everyone else is already at breakast…”

”I had a dream about you…” Harry murmurs, angling for a kiss. 

”You need to brush your teeth and drag a comb through that bird’s nest”, Draco says, shifting awkwardly in Harry’s embrace. 

”Wow, so romantic…” Harry mutters sarcastically and the blonde rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch. ”Don’t you want to know what we did my dream?”

”No…” Draco says, giving his chest a light shove, but the only thing Harry cares about is the pink blush in cheeks and grins in triumph. ”I want to go to breakfast. Now let’s go…”

”Fine”, Harry says and gives the other boy a quick peck, before letting him go. 

As soon as he’s changes out of his pyjamas and into his school robes however, Draco steps into his space again and presses his body up against his in a way that wakes him right up… Then he lazily drapes his arms around Harry’s neck and licks his way into his mouth in one of the filthiest and most wicked kisses Harry has ever been on the receiving end of, and that leaves him literally breathless once the blonde has stepped back again with a smirk. 

Blinking stupidly, but slowly shaking off the haze of arousal, Harry narrows his eyes at the other boy. 

”Did you just… reward me for doing as I was told?” he asks incredulously. 

The smirk on Draco’s face doesn’t waver, he just gives Harry a playful shrug and turns away and walks over to the doorway. Shaking his head in amusement, Harry follows. 

As they leave the dungeons and get above ground, it’s clear that the storm is still raging outside the walls of the castle and rattling the windows. He really hopes they don’t have Care of Magical Creatures today, or even Herbology even though it’s usually held indoors, because in order to get to the greenhouses they would have to leave the castle and walk across the grounds. 

Walking into the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry instinctively reaches for Draco’s hand to get his attention when the blonde is about to walk right past Seamus and Blaise. 

”Gerroff—!” Draco snaps, flinching away from him.

”What…?”

Draco shuffles away from him awkwardly, glaring at his shoulder. Harry feels floored, mind whirring to a complete stop in its inability to process what the hell just happened… But when Draco’s gaze flicker to a point just behind Harry’s shoulder — even before he hears her shrill giggle — Harry just knows Pansy Parkinson just walked into the Great Hall. 

”Stop pawing at me all the time!” Draco says loudly, his gaze flitting between Harry’s face and the point behind his shoulder — Pansy — getting nearer. ”Weasel over there’s been oogling you ever since we got here, why don’t you go join him if you need someone to hold your hand so badly…”

”Really?” Harry says quietly, pinning the blonde with a glare until he ducks his head.

”What’s the matter, Harry?” Pansy taunts as she sidles up to him, shoving her shoulder against his and confirming his guess. ”Scared of lightening?”

”That’s ironic”, Daphne chimes in with a snicker. 

Harry ignores them both. Anger is beginning to boil under his skin. 

Look at me, you fucking coward, he thinks as he continues to stare Draco down. But the blonde is avoiding his eyes now. He looks abashed, even regretful but Harry is too angry to care. 

”Fine”, he bites out bitterly. 

He catches Draco’s alarmed look just before he turns away. Then suddenly there’s a loud bang and several people scream. Stumbling over his own feet, Harry quickly wheels back around and searches frantically for whatever made the noise — and for Draco — but the blonde is suddenly nowhere to be seen… 

”OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!” Mad-Eye Moody roars as he comes hobbling through doors, his wand pointing at… a white ferret cowering on the floor where Draco had been standing only a second ago… Harry’s heart skips a beat as he stares in horror at the small, trembling creature, hardly believing what’s just happened. A tense, terrified silence spreads amongst the students, interrupted only by the muffled roar of thunder coming from outside and the clunk, clunk, clunk of Moody’s peg leg as he limps up to Harry, his good eye fixed firmly on Harry’s face.

”Did he get yeh?” he growls. 

”What?” Harry says. ”What are you talking about—?”

”I DON’T THINK SO—!” he roars suddenly and Harry jumps back, startled. 

But in the next second it becomes clear that Moody hadn’t been yelling at him at all, because he turns away and points his wand at the ferret again as it gives a terrified squeak and tries to run away, only to be blasted ten feet into the air before falling to the floor again with a smack… 

”I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back is turned”, Moody growls, directing the ferret out into the Entrance Hall, bouncing it higher and higher, as it squeals in pain. ”Stinking, cowardly —”

”Stop it!” Harry screams, his heart pounding as he runs after the enraged professor. ”He didn’t do anything! Stop — you’re hurting him!”

”I saw him reach for his wand! Scummy thing to do—!”

”No, he wouldn’t — you must have been mistaken — please, Professor! You’re hurting him!” Harry begs, looking worriedly between the man’s crazy good eye and the squealing ferret as it hits the floor with another sicking crunch. 

”What is going on here?” the stern voice Professor McGonagall barks and Harry is immensely grateful to see the old witch come marching down the marble staircase.

”Professor!” he gasps and points. ”Draco —!”

”Wh—” she splutters in shock. ”Professor Moody! Is that — is that a student?”

”Yep!” Moody says. 

McGonagall fumbles frantically for her wand; then with a loud snapping noise, Draco reappears in a trembling heap on the floor, his blonde hair dishevelled and plastered to his pink, sweaty face. Harry’s heart stutters as he watches him push to his feet, wincing in pain. 

”Moody, we never use transfiguration as a punishment!” McGonagall says. ”Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that? We give detentions! Or speak to the offender’s Head of House!”

”I’ll do that, then”, Moody says gruffly, still staring with great dislike at Draco with his good eye. 

Draco’s eyes well up with tears of either pain or humiliation, or both, but he meets Moody’s eye dead on, muttering about his father. 

”Oh yeah?” Moody says quietly, advancing on him slowly. ”Well, I know your father of old, boy… You tell him Moody is keeping a close eye on his son, you tell him that from me… Now, your Head of House will be Snape, I take it?”

”Yes”, Draco whispers resentfully.

”Another old friend”, Moody says and grabs Draco roughly by the arm and begins to haul him off towards the dungeons, muttering about having a chat. 

Harry only hesitates for a second, before he runs after them. 

”This doesn’t concern you, Potter”, Moody says without turning around. 

”Yes, it does”, Harry counters as he sidles up to Draco. ”And you don’t need to grab him so hard, you’ll pull his arm off!”

”Wouldn’t that be a pity…” Moody grumbles, but he lets go of Draco anyway. 

”I don’t need you to play hero”, Draco hisses at Harry. 

”I don’t care what you need”, Harry bites back. ”I’m telling Snape what happened—”

”I can speak for myself!”

”Can you? Only when it suits you, I guess!” Harry snaps. 

Draco says nothing, but through the corner of his eye Harry sees him bat a tear away from his cheek as it finally spills over. They make the rest of the trek back to the dungeons in tense silence, broken only by the rhytmic clunk, clunk, clunk of Moody’s leg. 

The tension doesn’t ease as they enter Professor Snape’s office either, if anything it gets heavier as they line up in front of the man’s desk, glaring in resentment at the floor in front of them as Moody gives his gruff explanation of why he’s interrupted Snape’s prep time and why two of his Slytherins are standing in front of him like two puppies with their tails between their legs. 

”What… happened…?” Snape asks them both in his stoniest tone of voice. 

”Nothing”, Harry says quickly. ”Professor Moody just came out of nowhere and attacked Draco. He turned him into a ferret and started bouncing him up and down on the floor.”

”So… You were not fighting?” Snape clarifies, and his dark eyes flicker over to Moody silently. 

”It wasn’t a fight”, Harry says. ”More of an argument, but it was over by the time Professor Moody showed up —”

”I saw this one draw his wand from his pocket”, Moody growls jabbing a scarred finger in Draco’s direction.

”I wasn’t holding my wand”, Draco snaps. ”I just happened to have my hand in my pocket before I went to—” 

He cuts himself off angrily and glares at the floor again. 

”You went to what?” Snape says.

”Reach for Harry”, Draco grumbles quietly.

”I see…” Snape says coldly, then turns his whole body to face the other professor. ”A student reaching out for his friend, now that is a crime… I’m surprised you didn’t haul him off to Azkaban immediately, Mad-Eye—”

”Don’t get smart with me, Snape”, Moody growls. ”Or one or two of my secrets might slip…”

”Don’t ever get physical with one of my students again”, Snape counters icily. 

Moody sneers at him, then turns to limp out of the office again. 

”Draco”, Snape says, the ice melted from his voice again. ”Do you need medical attention?”

”No…”

”Yes, you do!” Harry blurts out in frustration. ”Circe, you’re stubborn! You do need medical attention, you’re hurt! I can tell you’re hurt!”

”Harry, will you accompany Draco to the Hospital Wing?” Snape says smoothly.

”Yes”, Harry says in exasperation. 

”Good. I’ll write Professor Flitwick a note explaining your absence, so once you’re done you can make your way directly to Care of Magical Creatures…”

”Care of Magical Creatures?” Harry repeats dully, as Snape hands them both their new schedules. ”Great. Thank you, Sir…”

The resentful silence between Harry and Draco returns as they make their way out of the dungeons again, but unlike the walk there, this one actually helps to ease the tension between them somewhat. By the time they reach the Hospital Wing, their seething anger has simmered down to a stubborn sulk. 

Madam Pomfrey scowls and tuts as she fixes Draco’s bumps and bruises — and what turns out to be a small fracture on his elbow — Harry shoots Draco a look, and the blonde rolls his eyes. But as soon as the tension of pain eases from his face, his eyes soften too. 

”Might as well check your body mass too, while you’re here”, Madam Pomfrey says once she’s done healing him. 

Draco’s cheeks flush a dark pink and he glares at his feet, but stands perfectly still as the medi-witch casts another spell on him. 

”Good, good, you may go…” she says dismissively. 

Harry watches the side of Draco’s face carefully as they walk out of the Hospital Wing again. He thinks he knows what the weight check was about, and it’s not one of his bigger concerns at the moment considering what just happened in the Great Hall — Draco’s reaction to Pansy’s appearance raising every warning flag in Harry’s mind and reminding him again of what his dad tried so clumsily to warn him about at the beginning of the summer — but he figures it might be a good way to get the blonde talking to him, so he asks him about it anyway. 

”It’s nothing”, Draco huffs in annoyance. ”She’s just worried I’m not gaining enough weight.”

”Because you don’t eat”, Harry fills in the gap.

”I eat—!” Draco snaps. 

”I know”, Harry says quickly. ”But she’s worried you’re not eating enough. Right?”

Draco scowls and says nothing. 

”So worried she sent a letter home to your parents last year. And that’s how your mum finally convinced your dad to loosen up about us… Am I right?”

”Yes…” Draco mutters.

Harry nods thoughtfully. 

”It’s not what you think…” Draco says quietly after a moment’s tense silence. ”I don’t think I’m fat or anything, I just don’t like to feel full… That’s all…”

”Okay…” Harry says simply. 

They make their way back to the Entrance Hall so they can head outside for Care of Magical Creatures. But before Draco turns the doorhandle of the massive oak doors, Harry reaches out and stops him. 

Draco gives him a wary look. 

”Listen…” Harry says seriously. ”I don’t want to fight. Last year was… just awful. I don’t want to go through that again. So if you don’t want people to know about us, or you don’t want me to hold your hand in public or whatever, then… that’s fine. I can live with it. But Draco… you have to tell me, okay? You have to tell me what you want, because I can’t read your mind.”

Draco swallows a couple of times, his eyes shining suspisciously. Finally he nods. 

”And also…” Harry continues. ”I need you to tell me honestly, right now… that there’s nothing going on with you and Pansy, because… because…” he trails off and just shakes his head. 

”We’re just friends”, Draco says emphatically, still looking down. ”I don’t like her that way. I don’t like any girls that way, you know that…”

”Yeah, I know”, Harry says, ducking his head to scoop up Draco’s gaze in his. ”But does she?”

Draco just stares at him for the longest moment, then swallows again and whispers, ”I’ll tell her…”

”Fine…” Harry sighs. ”Okay. Good.”

They trudge over the soggy lawn towards Hagrid’s hut where the Gryffindors have already assembled. They all turn their heads and stare at Harry and Draco after Hagrid waves a massive hand in greeting and Harry’s eyes lock with Ron’s briefly before the redhead turns away again. Harry flashes back to their last interaction and feels a twinge of guilt, remembering Ron’s beet read face and the hurt look in his eyes when Mr Malfoy, sitting snugly at Harry’s side, insulted Ron’s entire family in one off-handed comment. And Harry had just sat there. 

”There yeh are!” Hagrid’s booming voice pushes through the wind. ”Where’s the rest?”

”Probably on their way”, Harry replies, knowing that the walk from the Charms classroom to Hagrid’s hut is quite the trek and will take the Slytherins slightly longer than the allotted five minutes on their schedule. 

”Well, we be’er wait for everyone ter get here!” Hagrid says, grinning excitedly.

Harry’s shackles immediately go up and he quickly scans the area for any signs of blood-thirsty beasts but only finds a several wooden crates at Hagrid’s feet and he starts to relax again, until he hears what sounds like a series minor explosions coming from a few of them. Next to him, Draco jumps and takes a couple of cautious steps back.

”Don’t be frightened!” Hagrid exclaims happily. ”They’re not dangerous!”

”Ehm, what’s not dangerous, Hagrid?” Granger asks carefully, eyeing the crates.

”Blast-Ended Skrewts!” Hagrid says proudly, pointing at the crate nearest to him. ”Oh, all righ’ then, if the Slytherins are late it’s their funeral — go on then, gather ’round—!”

The Gryffindors approach the wooden crates cautiously, peering inside. 

”Eurgh!” Lavender Brown squeals, jumping back again. 

Feeling slightly reassures by this reaction — after all, if what’s inside seemed at all dangerous, surely the girl’s reaction would have been a terrified scream rather than the noise you make when you step in something nasty — Harry starts approaching the crates as well and leaning forward, he peers inside the nearest one. 

Yeah, eurgh just about sums it up, he thinks, frowning down at the foul-smelling, slimy-looking things rattling around inside the crate. They look like a misshapen lobsters that’s had their shells torn off, their shortage of heads balanced out by an excess of legs sticking out in every direction. Harry figures thete’s about a hundred of them inside this particular crate, all scuttling and crawling over the others and bumping between the walls of the crate blindly. 

The small explosions that they’d heard turns out to be the result of sparks suddenly flying out of a Skrewt’s end, propelling it forward several inches. 

”They’ve on’y jus’ hatched”, Hagrid informs them with a motherly affection that Harry’s seen him direct at much worse creatures in the past and it therefore doesn’t surprise him in the least. ”So yeh’ll be able ter raise ’em yerselves! Thought we’d make a bit of a project if it!”

”And why would we want to raise them?” Draco asks shrewdly from his vantage point behind Harry’s shoulder and Harry turns his head to see a familiar sneer, barely concealing a spark of worry in the blonde’s steel grey eyes. ”I mean, what do they do? What’s the point of them?”

Harry, wondering the same thing, turns back to Hagrid curiously. But the half-giant is frowning uncertainly, his mouth opened but, even though he’s obviously racking his brains, he can’t come up with a good answer. Finally glaring in frustration, he gruffly tells Draco that that’s next lesson and today they’re just to figure out what to feed the creatures. 

”I’ve never had ’em before, not sure what they’ll go fer, so yeh’ll have ter try ’em on a few diff’rent things — I got ant eggs an’ frog livers an’ bit o’ grass-snake — just try ’em out with a bit o’ each!”

By now, the rest of the Slytherins have joined them and Seamus has bravely sidled up to Harry, but the rest keep a safe distance to the crates. 

”Come on…” Hagrid prompts them, gesturing to the smaller crates of food. 

Harry takes his time walking over, waiting to see what will happen to the first Gryffindors who attempt to feed the Skrewts. Ron grabs a handful of frog liver and carefully reaches into one of the large wooden crates, while holding his nose with his other hand. Nothing seems to happen. Glancing into one of the crates, Harry can’t help but to notice the fact that the Skrewts don’t seem to have mouths, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that they won’t eat… 

He bends down and scoops up some bits of grass-snake and ambles over to one of the Skrewt crates, crouching down next to it warily. 

”Ouch!” Dean Thomas cries suddenly and everyone jumps. ”It got me! Its end exploded!” 

The boy cradles his burned hand to his chest and glares angrily at Hagrid who hurries over, looking slightly anxious. They both have a look at the burn on Thomas’ hand and apparently it doesn’t warrant a visit to the Hospital Wing because Hagrid almost immediately relaxes, although he does give Thomas sympathetic look. 

”That can sometimes happen when they blast off, I’m afraid…”

”Eurgh, what’s that pointy thing on it, Hagrid?” Lavender Brown says, scrunching up her nose. 

Hagrid quickly perks up and shuffles over to the brown-haired girl enthusiastically, babbling about stingers on what he assumes to be the males and suckers on what’s then, presumably, the females. 

”I think they might be ter suck blood”, he says, sounding as excited as Seamus when he’s gushing over the muggle sport of football, and receiving a similarly nonplussed reaction from his audience as well. 

”Well, I can certainly see why we’re trying to keep them alive”, Draco says sarcastically, as his hand hesitates over the crate of ant eggs. ”Who wouldn’t want pets that can burn, sting and bite all at once?”

”Just because they’re not very pretty doesn’t mean they’re not useful”, Granger says haughtily. ”Dragon blood’s amazingly magical, but you wouldn’t want a dragon for a pet, would you!”

Draco finally abandons his attempt to reach for ant eggs — or rather he abandons the ruse of attempting to, Harry figures because he doesn’t really think Draco ever had any intention of actually getting his hands dirty, not without protective gloves — and he straightens up and glares back at the Gryffindor. 

”Right, silly me, I should have known we’re keeping them alive for their immense use as — of, remind me again, Granger — what are they useful for? Oh, wait, I forgot, that’s next lesson!”

”All righ’ yeh lot, settle down!” Hagrid says sternly. ”Malfoy, grab some of those ant eggs and get yerself over to one o’ these crates!”

”He can share mine”, Harry says quickly. ”Draco, I’ve already got some grass-snake.”

”Great…” the blonde mutters sarcastically, but makes his way over to Harry without any more fuss.

Blaise also joins them and crouches down at a safe distance from the crate, eyeing it indifferently as Harry reaches out and dangles half a grass-snake over the Skrewts. 

”Can you believe this is actually a lesson we’re having?” Draco mutters furiously. ”If my father saw this…”

”Could be a lot worse”, Harry counters. 

”That’s not an argument”, Draco insists. ”Saying things could be worse doesn’t alter the fact that they’re still quite awful as they are!”

”It’s not awful”, Harry huffs. ”Boring maybe, but not awful…”

”No, the Flobberworms were boring — these are hazardous!”

”Not from over there, they aren’t…” Harry says, giving Draco a pointed look. ”AH!”

Swearing loudly, Harry drops the grass-snake’s tail and quickly snatches his burned hand away from the Skrewts. Draco and Blaise promptly jump to their feet and back several steps away from the crate, before asking him if he’s okay and Harry rolls his eyes in exasperation then twists around to give them both an unimpressed glare. 

Sucking on the small burn at the back of his hand, he gingerly gets to his feet and backs away from the crate as well.