Nearly

Harry and his friends have just sat down at the Slytherin table for lunch when the Weasley twins trudge past, giving Harry wary looks but stopping to say hi when he smiles at them. 

”How are you guys?” he asks lightly. 

”Fine”, they reply in unison. 

Then one of them — Harry thinks he’s Fred, but he can’t be sure — throws Draco a furtive glance, before turning back to Harry and telling him they’ve just had their first DADA lesson with Professor Moody. 

”Yeah? How was that?” Harry asks in a carefully neutral tone, well aware of Draco eavesdropping next to him. 

”Brilliant!” the twins say, grinning.

”Never had a lesson like it”, possibly-Fred adds. ”He knows what it’s like, you know?”

”What what’s like?”

”Being out there doing it, fighting the Dark Arts…”

”He’s seen it all”, then-presumably-George interjects. 

”My father says he was forced to retire because he’s gone round the bend”, Draco says loudly.

”Yeah, well… Still…” George says, with a hard look at the blonde. 

Both Weasleys’ make a quick excuse and bid Harry good-bye, then continue over to the Gryffindor table at the other end of the Great Hall and Harry swallows a sigh, looking over at Draco and wondering if he’ll ever be able to be friends with the Weasleys or if the bad blood between their family and the Malfoy’s is somehow automatically transferred to him as well while he’s involved with Draco…

”I think it’s outrageous”, the blonde mutters savagely, stabbing a sprout. ”He’s unfit to chase down Dark Wizards, but he’s fit to teach in a school…”

”I know…” Harry agrees calmly. 

”Just wait until I tell Mother about this morning… Father will have him sacked faster than he can say ’loony’!”

”He might be a good teacher though”, Seamus says carefully, earning a furious glare from the blonde. ”I mean, I know he’s loopy, but it’s like those Weasley twins said, he’s seen it all for real, so… if anyone will be able to tell us what it’s really like…” he trails off suggestively. 

”I guess we’ll find out this afternoon”, Harry says. ”Double DADA with the Gryffindors.”

But before their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with the mad ex-Auror, they have Divination get through and as they climb through the trapdoor and step into the fuggy classroom, the scent of incense hits Harry like a wave of pungent sweetness… But as he ventures deeper inside the dim circular room, a more overpowering odour of dust and mould rises up like an underlying stench someone’s tried to cover up with a splash of perfume. Already he can feel the early signs of a headache and wonders, not for the first time, if the easy O really is worth all this… 

He lowers himself on a pouffe by a corner table that Draco has chosen for them. The blonde perches on the edge of a chintz chair’s seat and watches Professor Trelawny with wary eyes as the woman pulls her many frilly scarfs around her and gazes out at them through her thick glasses, her insect-like eyes blinking serenely as she waits for them all to find a seat and then settling on Harry with an all-too-familiar hint of pain. 

Here we go again, Harry thinks bitterly. But Trelawny doesn’t address him or predict his untimely demise, just informs them all in her mistiest voice that they will spend the autumn term considering the stars and planets. 

Rising out of her armchair in front of the fireplace, her many beads and bangles clinking with the movement, she sashays between them, looking like a mysterious mosquito, and talks about the celestial influence on all of their lives and destinies, which may be deciphered by those select few who can interpret the signs.

”You, my dear, for example”, she says to Draco, who immediately tenses up as she comes to a stop just behind his chair. ”Were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn… Am I right in saying, my dear, that you were born in mid-winter?”

”Early June”, Draco says quietly. 

A chorus of muffled titters and snickers erupts around them. 

”Ah yes, of course… I see now… Your pale complexion and light hair… Delicate stature… Of course, of course, I would have guessed late May, or early June, yes…” Trelawny backtracks quickly, her voice now devoid of its usual misty quality. ”Forgive me, my Inner Eye is a little preoccupied today… But you!”

She rounds on Harry and pins him with her huge, bug eyes and he quickly bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from cracking up and nods seriously, trying to look as though he’s hanging onto her every word with great interest.

”Your dark hair and mean stature… Tragic losses so young in life… Saturn must surely have been in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth!”

”I was born in July”, Harry says calmly. 

Looking extremely ruffled, Trelawny draws herself up to her full height and spins around to stalk back over to the fireplace.

”Open your copies of Unfogging the Future to page two hundred and twelve”, she says, sounding less misty than Harry has ever heard her. 

Smirking to himself, he fishes the textbook out of his book bag and turns to the correct page. 

However, his amusement is rather short-lived, because Trelawny proceeds to hand out very complicated charts for them to fill in and the rest of the lesson is spent trying to focus on tiny writing in the dim light of the classroom and concentrate on very tedious calculations despite an intensifying headache caused by the aroma of incense. But he is determined to finish his chart before the end of the lesson, thinking hopefully (naively) that if he finishes, Trelawny won’t assign him any homework. Well… Harry does manage to finish his chart — although with two Neptunes on it — but Trelawny still sets the whole class a rather massive homework assignment. 

”I should just drop the subject”, Harry mutters resentfully as they make their way down from the North Tower again. 

Draco only hums non-committally. Harry gives him a sidelong look. The blonde’s eyes are guarded and he’s got his lower lip sucked into his mouth, which is a sure sign that he’s worried and Harry realises that, despite the confidence he expressed earlier that he could easily get Professor Moody sacked with just one owl, he’s actually dreading their first lesson with ex-Auror.

When they reach the ground floor, they continue through the Long Gallery and make their way up a winding staircase leading them to the Serpentine Corridor on the third floor. Harry takes notice of the missing Staffroom door (the Staffroom sometimes chooses a different location depending on its mood) but is soon distracted by the sight of what looks like every single Gryffindor fourth-year lined up outside of the Defence classroom, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. 

Draco mutters something under his breath, but Harry ignores him. He doesn’t know what to feel. On the one hand, he’s quite excited to see what kind of lesson someone like Moody might come up with, especially after talking to the twins about it, but on the other hand, he’s just as upset about the ferret incident as Draco is and, excited though the lesson might turn out to be, he doesn’t exactly feel comfortable or safe with a teacher capable of doing something like that, and it’s hard to separate the emotions… 

As soon as the door of the classroom opens, the Gryffindors hurry inside and fight over the seats at the front of the class, while Harry and the rest of the Slytherins hang back, more than happy to claims the tables at the back of the classroom. 

Harry and Draco are just grabbing their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection from their book bags and putting them down on the table in front of them when they hear Moody’s now familiar clunking footsteps come down the corridor and then step inside the classroom. An expectant hush immediately spreads over the class and every head turns to follow the man’s limping walk up the middle aisle. Next to Harry, Draco slides down in his seat as if he’s tempted to slip below the table and hide underneath it. 

”You can put those books away”, Moody growls and takes his seat behind the teacher’s desk, his good eye staring down at the register while the magical one flits all over the classroom, seemingly taking note of every single detail and committing every student’s face to memory as he moves down the list of names. 

”Right then”, Moody says gruffly, tossing the register onto the desk. ”I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class…”

The brilliant blue eye swivels in its socket and fixes on Harry, and he suddenly feels a strong impulse to join Draco under the desk… 

”Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures”, Moody continues and the magical eye starts flitting around again. ”You’ve covered Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas and Werewolves, is that right? Well… You’re behind — very behind — on dealing with curses, so I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other… I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark —”

”What, you’re not staying?” Ron blurts out. 

Moody’s magical eye spins round and fixes on him and for several long seconds, the whole class seems to hold its breath as one as they wait for the ex-Auror’s reaction to being interrupted… A breath they all release in one relieved whoosh when a wide smile cuts through the man’s heavily scarred face and he lets out a harsh guffaw. 

”You’ll be Arthur’s Weasley boy, eh? Your father got me out of a tight spot the other day… Yeah, I’m staying just the one year — special favour to Dumbledore — one year, then it’s back to my quiet retirement…” he sneers, then suddenly claps his hands together loudly and the class jumps. ”So — straight to it, I think — Curses! They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry, I’m to teach you counter-curses and that’s it. I’m not supposed to show you what these illegal curses look like until your sixth year. It’s the Ministry’s opinion that you’re not old enough to deal with it ’til then, but I happen to be of a different opinion — and so is Dumbledore — we feel, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better!” 

Harry’s pulse steadily picks up its pace as he listens to Moody and one quick glance around the classroom tells him the rest of the class is equally excited — even Draco, although the blonde looks slightly resentful about it… 

”How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen?” Moody continues seriously. ”A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. So you need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Parkinson, when I’m talking…”

Harry looks across the aisle at Pansy who quickly stuffs a piece of parchment into her pocket, both her and Daphne blushing furiously. Apparently Moody’s magical eye can see through desktops as well as the back of his own head. 

”So — do any of you know which curses are the most heavily punished by wizarding law?” Moody asks, his good eye sweeping the rest of the class while the magical one keeps fixed on Pansy. ”Weasley?”

”Er, my dad’s told me about one… is it called the Imperius curse?”

”Ahh, yes…” Moody says with a knowing smirk. ”Your father would know all about that curse. Gave the Ministry quite a bit of trouble a few years back… The Imperius Curse, yes… Let’s have a look—”

He reaches down and opens a drawer in the teacher’s desk and takes out a glass jar that he puts on top of the desk for them all to see. Inside are three large, black spiders. Moody opens the lid and reaches inside, scooping up one of the spiders into the palm of his hand, then pointing his wand straight at it he growls ”Imperio!”

Suddenly the spider leaps from Moody’s hand and dangles in mid-air, presumably from a thread of silk, swinging to and fro like a pendulum, faster and faster… then with a backflip, it lands on top of the desk and begins to cartwheel around in circles. The class begins to chuckle appreciatively and, when Moody flicks his wand and the spider raises itself on its two hind legs and begins to perform a tap dance, there is a scattered smatter of applause around the classroom. 

”Think it’s funny, do you?” Moody growls sternly. ”How would you like it if I did it to one of you?”

The giggles immediately quiet down and the excitement of earlier fizzles as they all exchange uncomfortable looks. 

”Total control”, Moody whispers, his good eye staring down at the spider as it curls up into a ball and begins to roll across the desk. ”I could make it jump out of the window… drown itself… years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards who did a lot of awful things, and they claimed to have been under the influence by the Imperius Curse when they did them, now… here’s the crux, how do we determine who’s telling the truth and who’s only pretending?”

No-one says anything. But Moody doesn’t really appear to be expecting anyone to either. He grabs the somersaulting spider and drops it back into the jar with the other two. 

”The Imperius Curse can be fought”, he tells them. ”And I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character and not everyone’s got it. Better to avoid being it with it if you can — Constant vigilance! — Now, anyone know another illegal curse?”

A few hands shoot up and Harry isn’t surprised to see Granger’s twitching eagerly in the air, but he is surprised to see Longbottom hesitantly raise his. The only class in which Harry’s ever seen the shy Gryffindor raise his hand before is in Herbology. Moody’s magical eye zeroes in on Longbottom’s puffy face too and the boy’s hand drop a few inches again as if coming to his senses. 

”Longbottom, isn’t it?” Moody says thoughtfully.

The Gryffindor nods shyly, taking his hand down finally. 

”Well?” Moody prompts. 

”Ehm, well, th-there’s one… the Cruciatus c-curse…” Longbottom says nervously. 

”Yes…” Moody says quietly, scooping up one of the three spiders from the jar and placing it on top of the desk. ”The Cruciatus Curse… Particularly nasty… Now, I’ll need to make it a bit bigger so you’ll get the idea”, he adds, pointing his wand at the spider. ”Engorgio.”

The spider grows to three times its original size, but continues to cower in front of Moody on the desk, its legs pulled in tight against its body. 

Raising his wand again, Moody points it at the spider and mutters, ”Crucio…”

The spider begins to rock back and forth, its legs twitching wildly. Harry’s heart beats harder and harder in his chest as he stares at the small creature — images of contorted bodies silhouetted against the summer evening sky, writhing and jerking in pain, flashes through his mind — the spider shuddering more and more violently. 

”Stop it!” Granger’s shrill voice cuts through the heavy silence and it’s like a trance has been lifted. 

Moody’s good eye blinks and he lifts his wand, and the curse, finally. But the spider continues to twitch slightly, clearly still in pain. 

”Reducio”, he mutters, shrinking the spider back to its original size before putting it back into the jar and scooping up the third. ”Right… anyone know any others?”

No-one puts their hand up this time, even though Harry’s sure they all know at least one more… However, eyeing the spider on top of the desk, Harry isn’t about to offer it up and he’s certain he’s not the only one who feels that way. 

”No?” Moody says, grinning humourlessly at them. ”Ms Granger?”

Granger looks torn, but — clearly unable to resist — she takes a small, shuddering breath and mumbles something under her breath. 

”What’s that, Ms Granger?” Moody says, reining in his grin. 

”Avada k-kedavra, Sir”, she repeats a little louder, looking down at her clasped hands. 

”Ah yes… The Killing Curse…”

Harry stares apprehensively at the spider on the desk and feels a twinge in his chest as Moody raises his wand for the third time. 

”Avada Kedavra!”

A flash of blinding green light — exactly like Harry’s nightmares — bursts forth from Moody’s wand and hits the spider, which immediately rolls over dead. Harry stares at it, feeling far removed from himself, even though his heart is very clearly hammering wildly, almost painfully, in his chest and that’s a sensation that is real, that he can focus on, and still he feels like he’s floated away from his own body, away from the chair and the classroom… 

There’s a sudden flutter of fingertips over the knuckles of his clenched fist and he snaps back to himself again. Sucking in a shuddering breath, he tears his eyes away from the body of the dead spider and meets Draco’s eyes instead. There’s worry there, but also affection and Harry latches onto that with every ounce of his being. 

Moody is speaking again, Harry is aware. But even as he tries to focus on the sound of the man’s voice, it appears to reach him from a great distance. 

”There’s no counter-curse… no blocking it… only one person is known to have ever survived it… and he’s sitting in this room…”

Both of Moody’s eyes flit to Harry’s and he suddenly finds himself stuck in an eye-lock with the man, and even as he feels every head in the classroom turn and stare at him and he wants nothing more than to duck his head or hide completely, Harry can’t look away. 

He feels Draco’s fingers curl over his knuckles under the desk and squeeze his fist gently. 

”Now, if there’s no counter-curse”, Moody says. ”Why am I showing you? Because you’ve got to know! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

”Simply outrageous!” Draco says as soon as the class has been dismissed and they’re out of earshot. 

He glares back at the classroom door over his shoulder, but Harry catches his eyes dart worriedly to his own several times. 

”He’s kind of right though”, he says with an uncomfortable shrug. ”How are we supposed to defend ourselves against curses we don’t know…”

”This isn’t Auror training, it’s Hogwarts!” Draco says savagely. ”It’s completely irresponsible. Those curses are illegal, they’re unforgivable, and he just performed them in a classroom, just like that!”

”Yeah, I suppose…”

*

He’s running through the woods. His heart is lodged in his throat and his lungs are screaming, but he can’t stop, they have to keep going… Draco is stumbling along after him. Harry can hear his panting breaths, like half-sobs punctuating the dense silence. Why is it so silent? There should be noises: leaves rustling, animals scurrying, yelping, cooing, growling, but there’s nothing just… Laughter in the distance, like a ghostly echo far away and it doesn’t sound happy at all, it barely sounds human… 

Draco’s clammy hand is clutched tightly in his; he keeps dragging him along and even as he feels the blonde stumble and fall to his knees several times, he doesn’t stop or even pause, he just keeps pulling on his arm… They have to keep moving, have to get away… Where? Where can they go? 

Harry doesn’t know; he doesn’t know where they are, if he’s even running in the right direction. He can’t make out anything but the faint outline of trees in the darkness. He just knows he has to keep moving…

Suddenly Draco’s hand slips out of his and he’s clutching empty night air; he stumbles as he turns and falls over… Draco? he calls, scanning the darkness behind him in alarm. Draco? 

There’s no reply, everything is deadly quiet — except for the laughter that keeps echoing all around him — and then there are ghostly white faces looming out of the darkness, all around him, quietly grinning skulls surrounding him on all sides and he spins around in panic… The laughter keeps getting closer, but it doesn’t seem to be coming from any of the faces… They’re not faces, he realises with a pang, they’re masks…

Where’s Draco? What have you done with him?

Harry… 

He wheels around, heart hammering painfully and stares as one of the masks moves closer to him. He can make out a body behind it now, clad in black robes that billow in the breeze, and yet he can’t here them rustle… The mask suddenly turns into smoke and fades away into the darkness, and Harry finds himself staring into a real face, almost as white but definitely not grinning, but sneering… A long mane of white-blonde hair falls down over the black-clad shoulders… 

Harry!

Lucius reachers behind him and grabs something, pulls it forcefully forward and propels it into the space between them; it’s Draco, his tear-streaked face shining up at Harry as he kneels on the forest floor him and his father; his long, slender fingers curl into trembling fists in front of him and Lucius grip tightens on his neck…

Harry, he cries — but his lips don’t move.

Harry Potter, another voice whispers behind him suddenly and Harry feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand at the icy hiss… No, he thinks numbly… Like a mantra in time to the pounding of his own pulse… No, no, no… Not you…

Turning around slowly, Harry stares hopelessly as the masked figures step back to create a semi-circle in front of him, leaving just a small opening through which another hooded figure steps silently… He’s not wearing a masks, he doesn’t even have a face at all, just a pair of scarlet eyes that burn into Harry…

Don’t be a fool, Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort hisses, you can’t win, I will have him… and you… before the end…

Harry stares in paralysing panic as Voldemort raises a wand and whispers, Avada Kedavra…

A blindingly bright, green light bursts forth and envelops Harry, but… Wait… I’m okay, I’m alive… He let out a half-chuckle of relief, but as he opens his eyes again and sees the grinning faces all around him, it sticks in his throat… No, he thinks numbly, spinning around…

No! Draco, NO—!

”Harry! Harry!”

Startling awake, Harry scrambles up to sitting. For a heart-stopping second, as Draco’s pale face looms out of the darkness before him, he thinks he might still be dreaming and frantically moves back towards the headboard of his four-poster. But as the last remnants of sleep fall away from him and the blonde’s warm hands on top of his clammy arms register, he realises what must have happened… He must have woken Draco up…

”I’m — s-sorry —” he gasps. 

”Don’t be silly”, Draco whispers, mopping up the cold sweat on his arms by rubbing soothing circles over them. ”Come on… It’s okay… I’ll get you a new pair of pyjamas.”

Harry nods numbly, pulling the soaked tee off with shaking hands. He shivers violently as soon as the cold night air hits his damp skin, but then Draco is back and putting a clean, dry t-shirt over his head and rubbing his arms again. 

”Here…” he murmurs, pressing a pair of pyjama bottoms into his hands. 

Harry peels his wet pyjamas and pants off awkwardly and drops them to the floor with a wet flop, before pulling on the new pair. 

”Feel better?” Draco whispers. 

He nods and is just about to say good night, when the blonde climbs under the covers with him. Harry blinks in confusion. Without his glasses on, he can’t make out the other boy’s features enough to read him. But Draco just grabs him by the wrist and pulls gently, urging him to lie back down. Harry burrows down next to the other boy and feels his heart begin to pound again as their hot bodies press together.

”We’re just going to sleep”, Draco whispers. 

”Y-Yeah, o’ c-c-course…” Harry stammers breathlessly. 

Draco loops a leg over Harry’s and then an arm over his chest, bringing them even closer together and Harry tries not to focus too much on the feeling of Draco’s crotch pressed against his hip. He gingerly brings his arm up to drape over Draco’s, hugging him a little closer and concentrates instead on the comforting weight of Draco’s head resting over his heart. 

Lulled back to sleep by the other boy’s steady breathing, Harry manages to get a few hours of undisrupted sleep finally and when he wakes up, the dorm is lit up by the torches on the walls and the dim, green light from the windows and he actually feels quite rested. He stretches languidly, feeling around for the other boy’s body next to him but he’s alone in the bed again. 

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and reaches for his glasses on the nightstand. Draco is standing next to the bed, dressed already, and when he bends down to plant a butterfly kiss on Harry’s lips, Harry gets a whiff of his coconut shampoo.

”Morning”, Draco murmurs, his blonde hair dripping into Harry’s face before he straightens up again. ”Come on, get up. I’m hungry…”

”Yeah?” Harry grins. ”Maybe you should sleep in my bed more often…”

Draco rolls his eyes and whacks him in the face with his pillow, muffling his laugh.

”Come on…” 

”Fine, don’t get your wand in a knot…” Harry mutters, still chuckling quietly.

When the mail arrives, Harry instinctively scans the ceiling for Hedwig but then he remembers he’s yet to write home and tell his dads the dates of this year’s Hogsmeade weekends and makes a mental note to jot them down later this afternoon, knowing they have a free period after lunch and Draco wants to spend it in the Common Room to complete their homework for Charms and Divination anyway. 

Harry is vaguely aware of the blonde receiving the Daily Prophet from one of the newspaper’s official delivery owls and absent-mindedly moves his porridge bowl out of the way as he unfolds it and begins to leaf through it quickly. 

Looking up at the enchanted ceiling again, Harry notes the blue sky and the idea of spending the afternoon shut inside the Common Room doing Divinations homework feels even less appealing… Maybe I can persuade Draco to come outside and go flying instead, he thinks hopefully. 

”Hah…” the blonde says next to him. 

Harry blinks and turns around. The blonde is grinning smugly and Harry quickly looks down at the paper to see what’s got him in such a good mood… 

”FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC”, he reads the headline, then cranes his neck and tilts his head awkwardly to read the smaller print of the actual article, as Draco looks up and stares around him eagerly. 

With a sinking feeling, Harry skims the article, ”Poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup… further embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley… involved with a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers (’policemen’) over a number of highly aggressive dustbins… aid of ’Mad-Eye’ Moody, the aged ex-Auror…”

”Weasley!” Draco exclaims happily. ”Hey, Weasley!”

Harry looks up as well to see a red-faced Ron and an apprehensive Granger stopped halfway towards the Gryffindor table, glaring back at Draco. 

”What?” Ron says shortly.

Grinning excitedly, Draco snatches the Prophet away from Harry and narrowly misses cuffing him in the chin with its’ corner in his haste to wave it at the Gryffindors.

”Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley! Listen to this!”

Feeling a twinge in his chest, Harry looks between Draco’s smug face as he begins to read the article out loud and Ron’s steadily darkening face as he listens. 

”Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley”, Draco comments lightly, to the appreciative snickers of the other Slytherins. ”It’s almost as though he’s a complete nonentity, isn’t it?” 

Harry shoots Seamus, Blaise and Theodore a glare as they laugh. Seamus gives him an apologetic shrug, even as he keeps grinning. Draco straightens out the paper again ceremoniously and resumes reading, but Harry slams his hand down on top of it and it crumbles between their hands. Draco turns to glare at him, but Harry returns the look stubbornly. 

”That’s enough…” he says quietly. 

”Oh no, they’re going to fight again…” Blaise drawls. ”I’m off…”

He and Seamus jump to their feet and saunter out of the Great Hall, Seamus ’accidentally’ knocking his shoulder against Ron’s as they walk past him and Granger. Draco snatches the paper back from Harry and holds it up again, but this time he turns it around as intending for Ron to continue reading the article on his own. 

”There’s a picture too, Weasley!” he says loudly. ”There’s a picture of your parents outside their house—”

”Come on, Ron… It’s not worth it…” Granger says, pulling a trembling Ron along.

”—if you can call it a house—!”

”That’s enough!” Harry snaps. 

”What’s your problem?” Draco demands, finally putting the paper down again. 

”Nothing, I just don’t think it’s funny!”

”Of course you don’t”, Draco snaps sourly. ”Not when it’s about your precious Weasel…”

”You’re the only rodent around here!” a voice hollers from the Gryffindor table.

Harry and Draco both turn to see the Weasley twins grin as a chorus of chortles and snickers erupts around them. Draco crumbles the paper in his hand and clambers to his feet angrily. The roar of cackles and whoops from the Gryffindors rise and some clap their hands tauntingly as Draco storms out of the Great Hall. 

Swallowing a sigh, Harry gets to his feet as well and runs after him. 

”You started it…” he reminds the blonde as he sidles up to him. 

”Piss off”, Draco snaps angrily. 

They continue walking to the Potions classroom in silence. Harry figures it’s probably better to just let the other boy cool down on his own and if he doesn’t, Harry thinks wryly, then watching Professor Snape torment Longbottom will surely do the trick…

Even though their OWLs are a year away, the teachers seem to think they’re running out of time judging by the amount of homework they keep piling on them, none so effective and sinister as Professor Snape, who has made an artform of instilling fear and respect in his students. At the end of their first Potions lesson, he simply tells them to research anti-dotes in their spare time, then hints about his intention to poison one of them just before Christmas and tells them all to make sure they cover as many anti-dotes as possible, to give themselves a fighting chance…

Even Divination and Care Of Magical Creatures, the two subjects that Harry used to think of as a reprieve from the other, serious ones, has become arduous and time-consuming. Care Of Magical Creatures of all things, he thinks incredulously. All they do all lesson is try and persuade a bunch of exploding, stinging crabs to eat and although nothing seems appetising to the Skrewts, they still keep growing at an alarming rate, something that the students find quite worrisome but has Hagrid grinning like a little boy at Christmas, and as part of their ’project’, as he puts it, they should all come down to his hut on alternate evenings and study the creatures. 

”I will not”, Draco says contemptuously, before Harry shushes him discreetly. 

”Yeh’ll do wha’ yer told”, Hagrid says gruffly. ”Or I’ll be takin’ a leaf outta Professor Moody’s book… I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy…”

The Gryffindors burst out laughing, some pointing at Draco’s face as it pales at the suggestion before quickly growing pink with anger and embarrassment. 

Harry frowns at the half-giant, but bites his tongue before sticking up for Draco, knowing that the blonde won’t appreciate it in this moment anyway because it will only continue to highlight a memory he rather everybody just forget. So instead Harry tries to change the subject and asks Hagrid if he wants them to document their studies of the Skrewts as well, or if it’s just for fun… He struggles to keep a straight face as he adds the last part, not wanting to sound sarcastic. But fortunately, Hagrid is so enamoured with the creatures himself, that he readily buys the idea that anyone else might find it fun to study them as well. He tells Harry that it’s an excellent idea to write down their findings and maybe even draw some sketches of the creatures. 

Harry gives the half-giant a pinched smile and nods politely. Then as soon as he turns away to continue the lesson, Harry discreetly lets his pinky finger brush Draco’s before taking a half step away from him. 

When they return to the castle at the end of the lesson, a rather large crowd of students are gathered in the Entrance Hall and blocking the way to the dungeons. 

”What’s going on?” Seamus mutters next to Harry, who shrugs. 

The Irish boy is the only boy in their year who is just as short as Harry, although technically he’s still half an inch taller, but — Harry was pleased to notice as they hung out in the summer — he hasn’t grown much at all since the end of the last school year, whereas Harry has grown at least three inches… So I should be taller than him before long, Harry thinks hopefully.

But until such time, he stands half an inch shorter than him and at least a head shorter than Draco and Blaise, so he turns expectantly to the two of them now. 

”They’ve put up a sign”, Blaise says, standing on tip-toe and craning his neck to see over the heads of the students in front of them. ”It’s about the Triwizard Tournament, but I can’t read what it says…”

Draco huffs softly and proceeds to weave his way to the front of the crowd in his usual dainty manner. Harry smirks wryly, watching him go… As if he’s wading through water, the other students trickle aside and unconsciously make way for him without even realising he’s cutting in front of them… 

After a few minutes he comes back and informs them that the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will arrive a week from now, on the evening of Friday the 30th, and all their lessons will end half an hour early so that they may greet them in the courtyard outside before the Welcoming Feast. 

”That’s exciting, isn’t it?” Harry says happily, his mind flashing to Viktor Krum performing the Wronksi Feint. 

Draco gives him a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything. 

In the week that follows the Triwizard Tournament is the sole topic of conversation in the castle and not only about the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, but also about the Tournament itself with everything from speculations about the dangerous tasks to would be submitting themselves to be chosen as Hogwarts Champion. 

”Too bad there’s an age restriction”, Seamus comments idly on Thursday evening in the Common Room. ”Or Harry could enter. It’d be cool if Hogwarts was represented by a Slytherin, wouldn’t it? I mean, we’ve got The Boy Who Lived, but it’s always nice to be current, isn’t it —”

”Shut up, Finnigan”, Draco snaps. 

”Shut up yourself, I’m only joking!”

”Well, you’re not funny!”

”Guys — enough”, Harry says tiredly. 

If the other two boys have heard him, they ignore it and continue sniping at each other. Sighing heavily, Harry tries to refocus on his Divinations homework, but it’s no use. Even if the Common Room was silent as the grave he wouldn’t be able to focus on Divination, jittery as he is about their guests arriving the next evening.

”All right, that’s it — I need a break”, he says finally, snapping his textbook shut and standing up. 

Draco and Seamus stop quibbling immediately and look up at him in surprise. 

”I’m going for a walk”, he adds. ”Can you watch my stuff if I leave them here?”

”Where are you going?” Draco asks, sounding nearly alarmed at the idea of Harry going anywhere. 

”For a walk”, Harry repeats slowly. ”I need some fresh air, I won’t be long…”

As he reaches the Entrance Hall, he can see the Weasley twins and their friend Lee Jordan standing in front of the sign with the information about the arrival of the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, muttering quietly amongst themselves. 

Steeling himself, Harry walks up to them with determination. 

”Heya Fred, George, Lee…” he says brightly. 

The three sixth years wheel around quickly, looking startled until they realise it’s him. 

”Harry…” the twins greet him in unison, looking both relieved and a little apprehensive. 

”Let me guess”, Harry says with a grin. ”You’re planning to enter your names despite the age restriction?”

A wry smile twists one of the twins’ lips, while the other and Lee quickly look around to make sure no-one else is around. 

”I won’t tell anyone”, Harry adds. ”How are you going to do it?”

”Simple ageing potion. We only need to age a few months… Why, you want in?”

”No, thanks”, Harry says shaking his head. ”Better you than me… Hey, listen. About the World Cup…”

The twins faces instantly fall and their eyes shutter, but they stay silent. Lee Jordan looks between them both with wary eyes, obviously not used to seeing his friends so serious. Harry swallows thickly and takes a deep breath. 

”I’m really sorry you had to hear that — I mean — what Mr Malfoy said to your dad, it was out of order.”

”Yeah, it was”, one of the twins says curtly. 

”Well, I’m sorry”, Harry says again, stomach churning. ”I would never — I’m not — I don’t think that way.”

The hard look in the Weasley’s eyes melts slightly and they nod. 

”Harry, mate… Do you mind if we ask you a question, though?” the other twin says. ”How can you be friends with that git?”

”Who?” Harry says, frowning. ”Draco? He’s not a git—!”

He’s immediately met by three pairs of disbelieving eyes and he huffs, shifting his weight awkwardly, remembering the incident in the Great Hall and realising he’ll never be able to convince anyone from outside of Slytherin that Draco isn’t actually like that… 

He is though, a voice at the back of Harry’s mind pipes up. You know he is, stop making excuses for him. 

No, Harry thinks fiercely. He’s not always like that. He’s not Lucius!

”Look… I know he can act like a git sometimes, but there’s another side to him as well and… And I get if you don’t care about that or even believe it, but…” he trails off with a sigh. ”But that’s who I’m friends with… Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know I felt awful about the World Cup and… And the other day as well… Anyway, I guess I’ll see you around…”

The next day — Friday the 30th, the day of the arrival — trickles past at a snail’s pace and Harry, like the rest of the students, finds himself throwing furtive looks at the clock or out the windows every other minute to try and determine how much longer until six o’clock… Finally, in their second to last lesson of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts, they’re all sufficiently distracted however, when Professor Moody clears a big space in the middle of the classroom and tells them he’s going to put them each under the Imperius Curse so that they may know what it feels like. 

A stunned silence hangs over the class and they all exchange wide-eyed looks of disbelief and astonishment. Harry sees a small frown on defiance on Draco’s face and is surprised — even proud — to see the boy open his mouth to speak up, but before he’s said as much as a word, another voice speaks up from the opposite side of the classroom and the blonde shuts his mouth again with a snap, staring over at Granger who’s got her hand twitching in the air as always. 

”Sir, you said it’s illegal — you said yourself, to use any of these curses on another human being —”

”Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like”, Moody says gruffly, his magical eyes spinning around and fixing steadily on the frizzy-haired girl. ”But if you rather learn the hard way, when someone’s putting it on you so they can control you completely, fine by me! You’re excused — off you go!”

He points a gnarly finger at the door of the classroom. The girl’s face flushes a bright pink and she stammers something about not meaning she wanted to leave, then falls silent. 

Harry gives Draco a questioning look, wondering if he will leave. But the other boy just hangs back when Moody tells them all to line up, watching warily as one by one their classmates are put under the Imperius and made to do the oddest things, like imitating animals or performing amazing tricks or acrobatics they would never normally be able to do. 

”Potter!” Moody says suddenly, making Harry jump. ”You’re up!”

Draco gives Harry an alarmed look, but Harry gives him a quick smile and makes his way to the front and into the space that Moody has cleared of desks. He lifts his head and meets the man’s eyes — both of them — head on, steeling himself as the man raises his wand and points it straight at his head. 

”Imperio…”

Having half-expected to feel pain or some kind of discomfort at least, Harry is pleasantly surprised to feel nothing but lightness… Tensions he wasn’t even aware of having lift from his shoulders and his mind goes blank in the most pleasant way imaginable, every distressing thought and worry — every homework deadline, the Death Eater, the Dark Mark, Draco’s parents, Pansy, the animosity between the Weasleys and Draco, all of it — gets wiped from his mind, leaving nothing but a nice, airy space, like a clear sky on a beautiful spring day… 

And then he hears Professor Moody’s voice, from a great distance but still perfectly clear: Jump onto the desk… jump onto the desk…

Before he knows what he’s doing, Harry bends his knees in preparing, but then he stops himself and thinks Why though?

Jump onto the desk…

Shaking his head slightly as if to shake the voice out, Harry frowns to himself.

Jump onto the desk!

No, he thinks, that’s a stupid thing to do —

JUMP ONTO THE DESK!

No, I don’t want to —

JUMP! NOW —!

An explosion of pain in his knees shocks him out of the trance and he blinks tears from his eyes, looking around in confusion as Moody crows ”Now that’s more like it!”

The empty sensation lifts from Harry’s mind and the pain in his knees and back are doubled. He’s lying on his back on top of the overturned desk, and realises he must have jumped after all — except, since he’d tried to resist the impulse the whole time, he must have ended up simply charging the desk head on, knocking it over and falling on top of it — which would explain the severe pain in both his legs and back. 

Draco pushes a couple Gryffindors out of the way and leans over him, offering him a hand up. Harry winces in pain as he straightens his legs. 

”Potter fought!” Moody continues happily. ”He fought it and he damn near beat it too! We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention — watch his eyes, that’s where you see it — very good, Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you all right! Now, ready—?”

”You’re joking!” Draco splutters. ”What, now? He’s hurt—!”

”It’s okay!” Harry says quickly, as a deep scowl contorts Moody’s face and the magical eye flits over to Draco. ”I’m fine… Really…”

An hour later, as he hobbles out of the classroom leaning heavily on Draco, with spiking pain radiating from both knees and a dull throbbing in his lower back, Harry regrets ever having said such a thing. Moody had insisted on putting him under the Curse four times in a row, until he could throw it off completely, and he’s now feeling the effects in his body as well as his head, which has started throbbing as well. 

Draco mutters something about telling his father, but Harry tunes him out. He doubts Lucius Malfoy would care very much that Harry’s had some bumps and bruises as a result of Moody’s unorthodox teachings… His own dads on the other hand… 

They make their way down to the dungeons for their last lesson of the day — Potions — and line up outside the classroom. Harry continues to lean on Draco as they wait, even though he could just as easily lean against the wall. But Draco doesn’t seem to mind, for once. Probably because he’s too angry to reflect on what it might look like to the other students. 

”I can’t believe Dumbledore is allowing this!” Draco hisses furiously. ”It’s outrageous!”

”Mm…” Harry agrees absent-mindedly. 

When he hears the echo of approaching footsteps, Harry quickly pushes away from Draco and starts to pretend to be fine, but it’s too late… Professor Snape swoops down on his with eyes narrowed into suspicious slits, quickly sweeping down his body and taking stock of his posture and the obvious tensions of pain. 

”What did you do now?” the Potions Master asks quietly. 

”Nothing”, Harry says with an incredulous frown. ”Just been to class.”

”What class?” Snape demands. 

”Defence Against the Dark Arts —”

”Professor”, Draco interjects. ”Professor Moody put him under the Imperius Curse, Sir! Five times!”

Professor Snape’s eyes flash dangerously as he looks between the two of them, but he says nothing. Straightening up, he sweeps his glare over the rest of the class and barks at them to get inside the classroom already. The students jump and hurry to open the classroom door and scuttle inside. Harry gives Snape a questioning look. 

”One moment, Harry…” he says quietly. ”Draco, you can go ahead… Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing, Harry? You’re clearly in pain.”

”I’m okay, Sir”, Harry says earnestly. ”Just a little sore…”

”What did he make you do?”

”He tried to get me to jump onto a desk, but I resisted and sort of jumped into it instead… Four times…”

Snape considers him silently for a second, then nods. 

”And your head?”

Harry blinks in surprise. How did he know I have a headache?

”Do you require a Restoration Potion?”

”Ehm, I — I think I’m okay — thank you, Sir.”

”It’s okay not to be okay sometimes, you know”, Snape mutters with a knowing frown. 

Harry feels his cheeks flush and ducks his head. He hears rather than sees Snape sigh and imagines him rolling his eyes. 

”Come on…”

Snape clamps his hand down on Harry’s shoulder and steers him into the classroom, then more or less presses him into the nearest seat and stomps over to his desk, pulling at the drawers until he finds a small phial that he places in front of Harry without another word, then turns to the rest of the class and starts barking out orders for today’s lesson. 

Harry uncorks the small phial and takes a sip. As soon as he’s swallowed the surprisingly sweet potion, his headache disperses like mist under the noon sun and he feels invigorated and ready to start brewing — which he tells Draco eagerly and receives a funny look in response — the blonde points to the black board at the front of the class, where the ingredients for the lesson’s potion has magically appeared, and tells Harry to get the cauldron started while he goes to the store cupboard. 

”Okay!” Harry says brightly. 

”What did Professor Snape give you? Vitamix?” Draco mutters, but walks away before Harry can reply. 

Because of the impending arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, the lesson is cut short by half an hour and Professor Snape instructs them all to leave their cauldrons at the back of the class and put a Stasis Charm on them. 

”If anyone is still incapable of performing such a rudimentary charm…” he says coldly, with a withering look at Longbottom. ”Leave your cauldron where it is and I will do it for you… Dismissed!”

Harry waits outside the Potions Classroom with the rest of the Slytherins until the Gryffindors have all disappeared round the corner of the dungeon corridor, before approaching the hidden entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. Then hurrying to their dorms, they deposit their book bags and grab their cloaks and hats, before heading up to the Entrance Hall, where the four Heads of Houses are waiting for them. 

Harry and his friends make a beeline for Professor Snape who promptly instructs them to line up, but let the first-years come to the front. They all look around and swiftly start ushering all the short, baby-faced and scared-looking boys and girls in Slytherin ties to the front. One girl yelps when Pansy grabs the hood of her cloak, her arms flailing in protest as he whimpers ”I’m in second year!”

”Oh… Sorry…” Pansy mutters, letting go of the girl’s hood again. 

When the Heads of Houses have finished their head counts satisfactorily, they lead the students outside into the cold, clear evening air and instruct them all to line up below the front steps. There’s a charged sense of excitement and anticipation in the air as they all eagerly scan the darkening school grounds and the starry sky — because no-one knows for sure by which means the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive, but since you can’t Apparate within Hogwarts grounds it seems just as likely that they’ll be flying on broomsticks as come in any type of vehicle driving up from Hogsmeade — for any sign of their guests. 

Then finally, Dumbledore — standing amongst the rest of the teachers at the top of the stairs behind them — exclaims, ”Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

The excitement amongst the students spikes, but Harry can’t see any movement anywhere on the drive leading down to the front gates, or beyond, so he looks up at the sky again. But there is nothing there either… 

”There!” someone cries, pointing towards the Dark Forest and everyone’s eyes flit in the same direction. 

The waning gibbous moon can be seen just over the tops of the trees and in its pale light, Harry suddenly sees a large silhouette moving steadily towards them. 

”It’s a dragon!” a first-year girl shrieks. 

”Don’t be stupid, it’s a flying house!” another first-year contradicts her. 

There’s a ripple of snickers and snorts amongst the older students and Harry shakes his head in amusement. But as the silhouette gets closer, it turns out that the second first-year’s guess wasn’t too far off the mark… It’s not technically a house, but the horse-drawn carriage is certainly the size of one… And the dozen winged palomino horses tethered to it are all the size of elephants… They all come soaring towards them and touch down at alarming speed, causing the carriage to land with great crash that makes them all flinch. 

The door of the carriage opens and a boy in pale blue robes appears. He doesn’t seem to take any notice of his audience, but goes about his business bending over to fumble with something on the floor of the carriage and in the next moment a set of golden steps have unfolded and the boy jumps back and disappears from view again. Instead, a woman appears in the door — and she is by far the largest woman Harry has ever seen in his life, larger in fact than any man he’s ever seen as well, with the possible exception of Hagrid, but he can’t be sure… 

As she reaches the foot of the golden stairs and steps into the light spilling out from inside the castle, they get a good look at the black satin robes hugging her body and the many opals gleaming around her neck and on each of her olive fingers. She smiles serenely at the slightly wide-eyed audience, but her large, black eyes sweeps past them almost at once and settles on a point above their heads.

Harry turns around and sees Professor Dumbledore smile back at her, then begin to clap. Many of the students hurry to copy and the smile on the woman’s face grows. 

”My dear Madam Maxime”, Dumbledore says. ”Welcome to Hogwarts!”

”Dumbly-dorr, I ’ope I find you well?” the woman, Madam Maxime, says in a velvety voice. 

”On excellent form, I thank you!”

”My pupils…” she says, gesturing idly behind her. 

Harry turns in surprise and notice a dozen boys and girls in their late teens now standing just behind Madam Maxime, all shivering in their thin, sil robes and gazing up at the castle with unimpressed frowns on their faces. 

The Hogwarts students politely clears a path for the woman and her students and they climb the steps and disappear into the warmth of the castle, while they stay outside to wait for the Durmstrang delegation. Shivering slightly himself, Harry wishes they would hurry up and get here already so that he too may head inside. 

Then slowly, he becomes aware of a noise somewhere in the distance… a muffled rumbling followed by a sucking sort of sound… 

”Do you hear that?” he whispers to Draco who immediately nods. ”Where’s it coming—?”

”The lake!” Lee Jordan shouts suddenly. 

Everyone turns to stare at the large lake where the smooth, black surface suddenly begins move as though boiling; large bubbles rise to the surface and great big waves lap at the shore as a massive whirlpool is formed in the middle of the lake… What appears to be a black pole emerges from the eye of the whirlpool and continues to rise steadily, but then Harry sees the rigging and realises it’s a ship’s mast and sure enough… Within moments, a whole ship has risen out of the heart of the lake and lies bobbing for a few seconds in the still turbulent water, before it starts to move towards the shore. 

A group of young men make their way from the ship and up the slope to the castle — they’re all boys and all rather tall and broad-shouldered, Harry notices — lead by a man wearing sleek silver furs, matching his short hair and curling goatee. 

”Dumbledore!” he exclaims. ”How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

”Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff”, Dumbledore replies jovially and extends his hand in greeting as  the small party finally reaches them. 

Karkaroff shakes Dumbledore’s hand in both of his and looks up at the castle with a wide smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Harry can’t help but notice the very yellow tint to his teeth. 

”…Viktor, come along, into the warmth”, he says suddenly, waving one of the boys to him. 

Harry’s heart skips a beat as none other than Viktor Krum emerges from the small crowd and obediently joins his teacher’s side. Several people gasp and others begin to whisper furiously, but if the boy notices he doesn’t let on.

Once everyone has walked inside the castle and filed into the Great Hall, the Hogwarts students take their seats at their respective House tables and Ravenclaw join the Beauxbatons students who apparently chose their table to sit at while the rest of them were still waiting outside. They still seem to be shivering, despite having been inside for a good half hour by now and a few of them have even wrapped frilly scarves around their shoulders and heads. 

The Durmstrang students continue to hover uncertainly just inside the doors, clearly unsure of where to sit and their Head Teacher, Karkaroff, seems none to concerned and simply joins Dumbledore and the other teachers at the Head Table. 

Harry keeps looking over at Krum, feeling oddly star-struck, and his heart lurches pleasantly when the other boy suddenly looks over and, for one brief second, their eyes lock before the older boy continues to sweep his eyes over the rest of the Slytherin table. Clearly liking what he sees, he starts to make his way over and the rest of the Durmstrang boys quickly follows. 

”Look at Weasley’s face…” Draco says smugly. 

Harry looks over at the Gryffindor table and catches Ron’s envious look before the redhead quickly looks away again. He’s not the only one though. In fact, it seems like every student at both the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables are either glaring at the Slytherins or making moon eyes at Krum. Throwing another furtive look at the boy’s sharp profile, Harry realises he can probably be counted amongst the latter. 

”Krum, isn’t it?” Draco greets smoothly, extending his hand to the older boy like it’s no big deal at all, like he meets international Quidditch stars every day. ”I’m Draco Malfoy…”

”Pleasure”, Krum grunts and shakes his hand. 

Then before Harry knows how it’s happened or had time to emotionally prepare himself for it at all, Krum’s dark eyes have flitted over to his and his hand is looming in front of his face. 

”You are Harry Potter, yes?”

”Erm, y-yeah, yes!” Harry says, hurrying to grasp the boy’s hand and nearly getting his own crushed for his troubles. 

Suddenly five other hands are also thrust towards him, as the other Durmstrang boys sitting close enough to reach him want to shake his hand too. They’re all staring at him in awe, their eyes flitting between his glasses and the scar on his forehead. Harry shakes all of their hands awkwardly, feeling very confused. 

”Ve have read about you”, Krum tells him. 

Harry simply blinks at him, sure he must have misheard.

”I told you”, Draco murmurs. ”You’re mentioned in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts…”

”What?” Harry hisses. 

Draco opens his mouth to speak again, but at that moment Professor Dumbledore stands up at the podium in front of the Head Table, so he just shakes his head. 

”Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests!” Dumbledore says in a loud, carrying voice and twinkles down at them all. ”I have the great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable! Now, the Tournament will officially begin at the end of the feast, but in the meantime, I invite you all to eat, drink and make yourself at home!”

With one last smile at the students, Dumbledore sweeps around and resumes his seat in the middle of the Head Table and immediately Karkaroff leans in to strike up a conversation with him. 

Harry turns back to Draco, even as he starts shovelling food onto his plate and hisses, ”You never told me I’m mentioned in any books!”

”Yes, I did”, the blonde says in exasperation. ”The first time you mentioned James and Lily Potter, I said I’d read about them in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts!”

”Oh… Right…” Harry mumbles, remembering the moment vaguely now. 

”You still haven’t read them?” Draco asks.

”Why would I read them?” Harry counters sourly, stabbing at his Shepard’s Pie. 

”I’m sorry. Ve meant no offence…” Krum says suddenly, his bushy black eyebrows furrowing further as he looks between the two of them. 

”It’s fine”, Harry says quickly and gives him a pinched smile. 

As they’ve polished off their main courses and al manner of puddings have appeared in front of them on the tables, the teachers at the Head Table are joined by Ludo Bagman and a rather lanky old wizard with a toothbrush moustache and a what appears to be a permanent scowl on his face. 

”The moment has come”, Dumbledore announces, standing up once more. ”The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket… just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation—” 

The wizard in toothbrush moustache gives a grim nod as a modest smatter of applause erupts around the Hall. 

”—and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

A much louder and more enthusiastic round of applause breaks out and Bagman waves happily at them. 

”Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have both worked tirelessly over the past few months on the arrangements of the Tournament and will join myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madam Maxime on the panel which will be judging the three champions… Now, the casket then, if you please, Mr Filch.”

Filch hobbles into view carrying a large wooden chest encrusted with jewels that he places in front of Dumbledore on top of the Head Table. Harry cranes his neck curiously, staring at the chest… it looks ancient and he wonders what could possible be inside it. 

Dumbledore goes on to explain about the three tasks of the Tournament, all of which have been pre-approved and prepared for by Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch, but the three champions — one from each of the participating schools — will be chosen by an impartial selector… Harry frowns at the chest, wondering if the impartial selector is inside the chest or if the chest itself is somehow in possession of such abilities, like the Sorting Hat…

”—The Goblet of Fire”, Dumbledore continues and then, taking out his wand, he gives the chest three taps. 

The lid of the casket opens slowly, the gentle creak eerily loud in the silence as everyone seems to be holding their breaths. Reaching inside slowly and deliberately, Dumbledore lifts a large wooden cup from inside the chest, filled to the brim with dancing, blue-white flames. Then closing the lid of the chest again, he places the Goblet of Fire on top it. 

”Anybody who wishes to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly on a piece of parchment and drop it into the Goblet of Fire… You have twenty-four hours… Tomorrow evening, Hallowe’en, the Goblet will return the names of the three it deems most worthy to represent each school… The Goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be accessible to all those wishing to compete, and to ensure no underage student yield to temptation, I will draw an age line around it that no-one under the age of seventeen will be able to cross…Finally, I must impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this Tournament should not be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the Tournament through to the end — you see, placing your name into the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract — so there can be no change of heart once you have become a champion…”

Karkaroff comes over to the Slytherin table, his smarmy smile still in place as he seeks out Krum amongst his students. 

”Back to the ship then, boys… Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?”

Krum simply shakes his head and shrugs on his fur coat again, standing. The other Durmstrang boys follow suit. 

”Professor, I vood like some vine”, one of them says hopefully. 

Karkaroff’s friendly demeanour slips immediately as he glances over at the boy. 

”I did not offer it to you, Poliakoff”, he snaps. ”I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, you disgusting boy! You are embarrassing us in front of these Hogwarts—”

He cuts himself off suddenly and freezes, his eyes fixed on Harry in amazement and disbelief. Harry catches his eyes do the familiar little journey up to his forehead and swallows a sigh. 

”Yeah, that’s Harry Potter”, a gruff voice says suddenly. 

Karkaroff jumps and spins around to see Professor Moody standing right behind him, his good eye glaring up at the Durmstrang Head Teacher while his magical one flits over to Harry. 

”You!” Karkaroff gasps. 

”Me…” Moody growls. ”Welcome to Hogwarts, Karkaroff…”

Karkaroff immediately starts pushing and pulling his students roughly towards the doors, without another look at either Moody or Harry, suddenly in a rush to get back to the ship. Harry looks over at Moody curiously and notice the magical eye track the other man’s progress across the Hall and out the doors — and probably across the Entrance Hall and the grounds as well, Harry guesses.

Later in the Common Room, Harry sits with his friends and the rest of the fourth-years in front of the fireplace and speculate over which students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will get chosen by the Goblet of Fire and who from Hogwarts will enter their names for consideration. 

”Diggory from Hufflepuff will probably go for it”, Draco says and Pansy and Daphne immediately coo their agreement. 

”Diggory”, Harry scoffs. ”I heard he’s dumber than a broomstick… You heard what Dumbledore said. It’s going to take a lot more than physical strength to win —”

”Who said he’s dumb?” Draco asks. ”He can’t be that dumb, he’s on top of half his classes and he’s a Prefect…”

”How do you know how he’s doing in his classes?” Harry asks suspiciously. 

Draco simply shrugs and looks away, but Harry can still see the blush that breaks out in the boy’s face. 

”I’m with Draco, I think he’s magnificent”, Pansy titters. ”You know, for a half-blood Hufflepuff…”

”You just like him because he’s good-looking!” Seamus says. 

”Isn’t anyone from Slytherin going to go for it?” Draco says loudly. 

Obviously trying to change the subject, Harry thinks with a frown and wonders if that’s because he thinks Diggory is good-looking too…

”Yeah, I am”, Warrington grunts from the other side of the Common Room. 

”Me too”, Flint chimes in. ”Might as well now that the Quidditch Cup is off the table…”

”I’m tired”, Harry lies. ”I’m going to go to bed…”

”Wait, I’m coming too…” Draco says immediately and jumps to his feet. 

”You don’t have to”, Harry mumbles uncomfortably. 

”What?” Draco says. ”I know — I’m tired too!”

”Okay then…” Harry sighs. 

They get ready for bed in silence. Harry would say tense silence, except he seems to be the only one feeling the tension because Draco looks like like he might start humming or whistling any second… Harry tries to catch his eye, to get a better reading, but the blonde busies himself with his pyjamas and doesn’t seem to notice. 

Whatever, Harry thinks sourly and clambers into bed. He’s just about to say good night, when the edge of his cover is suddenly lifted and Draco slips into bed next to him. 

”What are you doing?” Harry whispers. 

”Going to bed”, Draco whispers back and gives him a dazzling smile. 

Harry blinks in confusion. What is happening? And what happened to the missing bit between our fight in the Common Room and that smile?

”Harry?” Draco whispers, the smile slowly dimming. ”You don’t mind, do you?”

”What… Oh, no… No, of course not… But…”

”Good”, Draco says and smiles again.

I’m missing something, Harry thinks and opens his mouth to speak again, but whatever he might have meant to say gets snatched from him when the other boy leans in and presses their lips firmly together. Harry’s stomach flutters and he eagerly presses back. 

He feels the smile against his own lips this time. 

Draco leans back again. Harry blinks stupidly at him, feeling embarrassingly out of breath. The blonde reaches up and brushes the hair from Harry’s face and as he gazes into his eyes, his own silvery orbs twinkling with amusement and fondness… and the smile is still there, still secretive and playful and just there…  I’m definitely missing something, Harry thinks. 

”Good night, Harry…”