Chapter 1: Reconnaissance
In the Great Hall, all eyes were on the Durmstrang students near the door. The Beauxbatons students had already settled themselves at the Ravenclaw table, to the Ravenclaws' delight.
"They'll be sitting here, won't they?" asked Pansy, her eyes flickering between the Slytherin table and the group of students.
"Where else would they go?" replied Draco, trying to spot Krum in the group. "Surely not Gryffindor."
"We should make some space for them before they settle on Gryffindor, then," said Pansy. She turned to the third years sitting a few seats down and motioned for them to move over.
There was a subtle shuffling to the left and Pansy moved to the right along with Daphne and Millicent. Draco inched to the right before turning back to look at the Durmstrang students. They were moving quite steadily towards the Slytherin table. Draco snapped his head back.
"May ve sit here?" said an unfamiliar voice a moment later.
"Oh, of course," replied Blaise, shifting closer to Draco.
The six new arrivals settled along both sides of the table, pulling off their heavy furs. Underneath, they were wearing the same shade of blood red robes as their cloaks. Draco was internally jumping with excitement at meeting the Durmstrang students and especially Viktor Krum, but the new arrivals didn't seem very sociable. Unsure about what to say, Draco looked away and instead listened to them murmur among themselves about the Hall's starry ceiling, the golden tableware and the lighting.
"I didn't know your school was so beautiful, Draco," said the boy across from him.
Draco looked up at him, astonished. Why does this Durmstrang student seem to know him?
"Yes, ah—the ceiling is enchanted. It's slightly annoying on sunny days though," said Draco, his mind desperately flipping across all the names he knew. It would be extremely embarrassing if he forgot the name of someone he has met before.
"I shall watch out," said the blue-eyed boy, and he laughed almost knowingly. "Maybe we should reintroduce ourselves."
"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," said Draco, offering his hand hesitantly.
"Yassen. We met at my family home during the summer ball, I believe," replied the other, smiling graciously as they shook hands.
"Yassen?" echoed Draco, his eyebrows raising. Indeed, he had recollection of a kid named Yassen because Father made him memorize the guest list every party. "Why, you've changed…a lot."
"We met as very young children, after all, but I couldn't say the same about you," said Yassen, smiling as he ran a hand through his whitish-blonde hair. His eyes flickered to Blaise. "Mr.—Zabini, I presume?"
"Yes. Just Blaise, please," said Blaise as they shook hands.
"Then please extend that courtesy to me as well."
The rest of Draco's Slytherin classmates were listening intently and Pansy looked as if she was about to speak when the blue-clad Beauxbatons students leapt to their feet with a clatter. They sat down after Madame Maxime did, but the Hall remained silent as Dumbledore remained standing, an arm raised.
Draco glanced at Yassen and Viktor Krum down the table before turning to look at Dumbledore.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—honored guests," said Dumbledore, beaming at the foreign students. "I am pleased to welcome you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
The golden plates filled with food and Draco found the selection surprisingly normal. He dug in. There was surprise in the tone of the foreign students' chatter as they surveyed the selection.
"So Blaise, what subjects do you take?" said Yassen, gazing intently to Draco's right.
"There's Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic…Defence against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology and Astronomy. And for the electives, I take Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."
"You seem to enjoy the theoretical side of life."
"Not exactly," muttered Blaise. "It's just that the alternatives are Divination, Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures. Which Draco is taking, now that I think of it."
Yassen laughed.
"I regret it very much, thank you," said Draco, glaring at Blaise. "Just this year, our teacher created some terrible cross-breed he calls Blast-Ended Skrewts. It sounds just like its name, but worse. The worst is that we are supposed to keep them alive instead and that's all we'll do the entire year."
"It's a cross between a manticore and a fire crab," added Pansy, leaning across Millicent.
"I see. It is an interesting combination," said Yassen. "But hardly suitable for teaching—it may be better to teach about more commonly seen creatures."
"Exactly!" said Draco, suppressing a sudden urge to scowl at Hagrid. "What about Durmstrang, Yassen? What subjects are you taking?"
"We have many similar subjects, like Charms and Transfiguration. I suppose I won't bore you with the details—but there isn't anything like Muggle Studies."
"What's your favourite subject then?" asked Blaise.
"Perhaps Spell Research."
"Durmstrang has that?" said Draco, his lip curling. "If only they had advertised that, Father would definitely have sent me there instead. Mother didn't want to, but our curriculum here at Hogwarts is so lacking."
"I don't think any of the wizarding schools do advertising, you know," said Blaise.
"But Hogwarts is still an excellent school," said Yassen, smiling. "I would love to see what you have learnt in class. Who is the best student in your year?"
Draco glanced at his housemates, who were very obviously listening in. The answer was obvious, but no one present was keen on saying it. Yassen continued eating, but his eyes remained on the Slytherins.
"To be extremely objective," said Draco sourly after a short pause, his eyes narrowed. "Solely in terms of grades, it's the mudblood Granger. But I don't think grades are everything."
Yassen nodded. "Especially for the Triwizard tournament."
"Do you think you'll be chosen?" asked Blaise, finishing the last of his food. "I wish I was old enough!"
"Only the Goblet of Fire knows," said Yassen, tilting his head slightly. "It's a pity they imposed an age restriction this year, but at least the tournament was reinstated."
"The moment has come," announced Dumbledore, causing all conversation to cease.
Bagman and Crouch were announced and Filch approached the Headmaster with a bejeweled wooden casket. Dumbledore withdrew his wand and tapped the casket thrice. It creaked open slowly. He gently removed the Goblet, holding its bulk in one hand. Blue flames tipped white danced energetically in the Goblet.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet…"
Draco started to tune out.
"…I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
Draco snapped out of his daze in time to see Igor Karkaroff stride briskly towards the Durmstrang students. "Back to the ship, then," he said, clapping Viktor Krum's shoulder. "How are you feeling, Viktor?"
Almost as one, the red-clad students stood from the table and pulled on their fur cloaks. Karkaroff, still fussing over Krum, turned and led his students towards the door.
"Draco; Blaise—it was a pleasure to meet you," said Yassen, nodding politely at the pair before following after Karkaroff.
"I didn't know you knew someone from Durmstrang," exclaimed Pansy as they headed towards the dungeons, her face animated. "How did you two meet?"
Draco crinkled his nose. "Father brought me along to some fancy ball for the summer solstice—all the children were put in a room together—you get the idea."
"I don't think he ever said his last name, did he?"
That made Draco pause. "He was introduced to me with the Makhov family," he said slowly, "so he must be their son."
"Maybe it's a cultural practice. They're quite different…see, the foreign students aren't a very sociable lot, are they?" said Blaise. "I know you're a big fan of Krum, Draco, but most of them look sullener than that portrait near the staircases."
"I don't care how sullen they are," retorted Draco. "They must get to learn so much more magic! And we get things like Divination and Blast-Ended Skrewts…? Who knows what else Hogwarts neglects to teach—Merlin, if only Mother allowed me to attend Durmstrang…"
Draco didn't see the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons students at breakfast the next day. The decorations around the Great Hall had been replaced with the familiar Halloween Feast decorations and conjured bats fluttered around the Hall, most congregating in a shadowy corner away from the morning sun.
"Do you want to head to the library? We still have to write Professor Snape's essay," said Pansy.
Their plans were foiled, however, a minute after they reached the library. Despite it being a Saturday morning, Krum was already up studying. His fans, too, were up and causing a subtle buzz through the library.
"I wonder why he's here alone," muttered Blaise as he followed after Draco.
"Who could study with a bunch of girls whispering from all directions? I'm surprised Krum can stand it," said Draco.
"Maybe he enjoys it?" said Pansy, laughing and shaking her head bemusedly. "We could practice some Transfiguration instead."
Draco nodded in assent. "Yes. Let's go to the lake—it's quiet and I could use some sun."
On the way down through the entrance hall, they passed Potter and his friends.
"Oh, look who it is," drawled Draco. "Going to get some new robes for the big event, are you, Weasley? If you used a Sticking Charm on the grass it may just look better than your current ones."
"Malfoy, you git—" growled Weasley and Potter at the same time and looked as if they were about to withdraw their wands.
"Not. Now," said Granger in a tone of finality. She whispered something to them. Both groups gave the other a nasty, suspicious glare before they walked off in opposite directions.
"Probably going to visit that crazy oaf," whispered Pansy, glancing back at them surreptitiously.
They reached the edge of the lake in no time. The expanse of the water surface was smooth, only broken by the bulk of Durmstrang's enchanted ship and the little rocks and pebbles surrounding the lake bank. A figure clad in blood red was perched on the bank, striking against the pale blue of the morning sky. Hearing the noisy footsteps of the new arrivals, he turned around and waved once in acknowledgement.
"Here to admire the lake?" asked Yassen.
"Not really—we wanted to practice some spells," said Draco, choosing a smoother piece of rock to sit on.
Yassen had stood up to shake hands with Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle. When they were all seated, Draco spoke.
"Have you put your name in the Goblet already?"
"I have. Karkaroff woke us up at five in the morning to do it. I'm rather tired," said Yassen, leaning back and sighing. "What spells are you practicing?"
"Transfiguration, like the Vanishing Spell," said Pansy.
"In your fourth year?" asked Yassen, his eyebrows rising. "I'll trust you all to not vanish me by accident then."
Draco wasn't sure whether that was an insult or a compliment.
"What did you learn during your fourth year, then?" asked Blaise.
"A lot. Dueling, for one."
"I was going to ask you for a demonstration, but now I'm not too sure."
"A party trick for you…" Yassen grinned and suddenly, snow started falling in the rough circle they were sitting in.
Pansy gingerly reached out his palm and caught a snowflake.
"It's real snow," she said with mild surprise.
"Indeed," said Yassen flippantly, but he had turned his attention to the Great Lake. "But what creatures live in this lake? I was considering a swim, but rumor has it that there is some giant minotaur squid hybrid that swims—"
They laughed.
"Yes, there is a giant squid," said Draco, smiling. "But by Merlin's robes, it's just a squid. Whoever added the minotaur part?"
"The Slytherin dormitories are below the lake, so we see it at the windows sometimes," added Pansy.
"A Hogwarts student said so," said Yassen, looking pleasantly amused.
"Probably a Gryffindor," muttered Draco, and his friends nodded in agreement.
"House rivalries are strong, I see."
"Don't you have houses in Durmstrang?" said Goyle.
"No—I think—it is competitive enough without the houses," said Yassen, shaking his head with a wry smile. "What other creatures do you think live in the lake?"
"There's definitely merpeople," said Pansy.
"Grindylows," offered Blaise, his index finger tapping slowly on the side of his jaw. "But that's more of a rumour, I would say. I've never seen one myself."
"Izvinite, Yassen!" shouted someone from the bow of the ship.
"Oh! Thank you for telling me about your school. It sounds so hospitable," said Yassen, smiling cordially. He stood up. "I think I am needed, unfortunately. See you around."
As he left, the snow stopped falling. Draco let one of the last flakes drop into his palm.
"That was impressive, you have to admit," said Blaise, staring at the melted remains of the snowflake in Draco's palm.
"It's brilliant," muttered Pansy.
"If only Mother had allowed me to…"
Pansy and Blaise looked at each other and smiled knowingly.
She cleared her throat lightly. "Vanishing spells, everyone."
For Draco, hours seemed to pass like minutes and the rocks were dyed the color of the sunset by the time he looked up from his textbook, wand and pebble.
"Let's head up for the feast," said Draco, putting his things away.
"It's a fifth year spell, after all, Draco—don't worry. I bet none of the other fourth years can get it either," said Pansy with a sympathetic smile.
"That know-it-all Mudblood probably can," muttered Draco as they walked towards the Great Hall.
While Draco had eleven years of preparation and countless private tutors, Granger had nothing but books—and that was something his father liked to remind him about every time he received his exam results. He shook the thought out of his mind as they sat down near the end of the table.
The Goblet of Fire had retaken its place at the teachers' table, dancing merrily.
"Who from Slytherin entered?" Draco heard Pansy ask.
"Warrington," replied Millicent. "And the portrait near the dungeons mentioned someone that looked like Carrey."
"Hope it's a Slytherin," someone added.
The Hall was almost full when the Durmstrang students arrived. Pansy had made sure to save a space for the group of six, and she smiled welcomingly at them as they sat down at the Slytherin table.
"Thank you, Pansy," said Yassen, returning the smile.
The a few of the other fur-cloaked students nodded politely, looking tense. In fact, in Draco's opinion they looked even more sullen than they were yesterday. It was to be expected, though—despite having nothing to do with the tournament, Draco felt rather tense and excited, as if he were moments before playing a Quidditch match.
This electrifying atmosphere seemed to permeate the Hall and even the live bats; they flew around the floating candles in nervous circles. Almost everyone was glancing at Dumbledore every few seconds, waiting for him to indicate the end of the feast.
As Dumbledore rose to his feet, the murmuring in the Hall died down. Draco felt himself sitting a bit straighter. All eyes were on Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Maxime and the unassuming Goblet standing in the middle.
"The goblet is almost ready to make its decision. When the champions' names are called, please, come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table and go through the door right behind me to receive—their first instructions," said Dumbledore, as he gestured along the path the champions had to take. He withdrew his wand and gave a great, sweeping wave. At once, the floating candles were extinguished; the only light left was from the carved pumpkins. Draco could make out the silhouette of the bats' wings against the scarce light. The fire in the Goblet was almost too bright to look at, but everyone still did, awaiting the inevitable…
The fire turned red and immediately a brilliant tongue of flame shot into the air, changing into white as it flew. There was a collective gasp in the Hall and Dumbledore caught the charred piece of parchment with practiced ease. He seemed to take an abnormally long time reading it, and everyone stared expectantly at him until eventually he announced loudly, his voice with an undercurrent of tremor: "The champion for Durmstrang is—Yassen Grindelwald."
The Hall seemed to do a collective turn towards the Slytherin table—Draco felt his eyebrows raise greatly—there was a beat of rest before the Hall broke into polite applause; he found himself clapping enthusiastically.
"Bravo, Yassen!" shouted Karkaroff, beaming.
Yassen smiled appreciatively at the crowd and nodded to his Headmaster and Dumbledore as he strode to the staff table, turned right and shut the door lightly behind him. Unlike the boy, Dumbledore looked rather astonished.
"He got it!" someone exclaimed.
"Grindel—" said Draco immediately.
"—wald?" answered Blaise.
The Hall quietened down in anticipation of the second champions' name; Draco snuck a look at the remaining Durmstrang students at the table. They looked as unflappable and stony as always—except Krum, who looked rather upset. In his peripheral vision there was a flash of red. He turned his head around in time to see Dumbledore catch the piece of charred parchment.
"The champion for Beauxbatons will be—Fleur Delacour."
The Hall once again broke into loud applause. Over at the Ravenclaw table, an extremely beautiful girl with silvery blonde hair stood up, the epitome of grace. Draco thought she probably had Veela ancestry. She swept along the route Yassen had earlier taken, her head held high and looking pleased.
The last champion must be the Hogwarts champion…Draco stared intently at the Goblet this time, hoping with all his will that the champion wasn't a Gryffindor…and then for the last time the Hall was bathed in the red of the fire and Dumbledore said, "The Hogwarts champion—is Cedric Diggory!"
There was a great outroar in the Hall, with a lot of screaming and stamping from the Hufflepuff table. Grinning widely, Cedric made his way up to the table.
"At least it's Diggory," shouted Blaise to Draco over the commotion, both clapping politely. "He's a good bloke."
Dumbledore was smiling at the raucous support. "Excellent," he exclaimed over the ongoing noise. "Excellent," he repeated, as the Hall began to quieten. "Now, we have all three champions. I'm sure that every single one of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to support your—"
There was a sudden deadly silence in the Hall as Dumbledore paused, his long beard tinted red by the Goblet's fire. Nimbly, he grasped the unexpected piece of parchment—he stared at it for a very long moment, during which the student body stared at him—and then Dumbledore swallowed before looking up.
"Harry Potter," he said.
Draco shared a blank, astonished look with Blaise before everyone in the row turned to look at the Gryffindor table. Everyone seemed slightly frozen with bewilderment, and a low buzzing began to fill the hall.
"Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please," called Dumbledore again, looking pensive.
"Are you saying that Hogwarts vill have two champions? Two?" said a Durmstrang girl at the table, scowling deeply. "Their school is cheating! What about the rules?" she said to the boy beside her furiously.
"Well, talk about a bad first impression," whispered Draco to Blaise.
"Potter, as always!" hissed Pansy, leaning across the table to make herself heard.
"Does he think he'll be winning?" sneered Draco.
"Amazing. Every year he's been here, something special happens," said Blaise, laughing as he shook his head.
"First that, then this…it's unprecedented…" said Daphne, frowning. "But Potter aside—did you hear the Durmstrang champion's name?"
Professor McGonagall dismissed them, but once again—Harry Potter was the talk of the school. Draco went straight to his dormitory, intent on penning a letter to his parents.
"You look troubled."
Harry turned to see Grindelwald, clad as always in the red robes of Durmstrang. He turned back to face the lake, his rare sanctuary ever since he was announced as the fourth champion a few days ago.
"Because I am," said Harry bitterly. "Whole school hates me again, I guess."
"I heard about your yearly trials and tribulations. It is strange that they turn against you so easily."
"Yeah!" exclaimed Harry, kicking a rock into the lake before squatting down. "So much for gratitude, isn't it? Okay, everyone can hate me. I can accept that. But for my best friend to treat me like that too? It isn't my bloody fault."
"And I believe that," said Grindelwald, his voice soothing as he sat down beside Harry.
"You believe me?" said Harry, raising his head and slowly turning around.
"Yes."
Harry snorted.
"I'm surprised that someone who is competing against me believes me," said Harry quietly, "more than my best friend. Hermione says that he's jealous, but, seriously does—"
"That's called a fair-weather friend, don't you think?"
"He stood by me in our first year though…and the second year and the third…it's just this time," muttered Harry, looking out at the lake gloomily.
"That jealousy you mentioned has been fermenting for very long, then. I can assure you, Harry—if that friend ever returns to you, apologizing with bad excuses, it will only be because he realized that he needs your fame and influence after all."
"That's…harsh," said Harry.
"The truth is harsh," said Grindelwald, smiling kindly. "I mean, what did everyone say upon knowing you were Harry Potter?"
"…they seem amazed…and wanted to see my scar."
"Yes, they wanted to know you, isn't it? You'll find that we are very similar, Harry—people will tell you many ridiculous rumors about me, just because of my family name. They treated you differently because of your name, because you're famous. When you succeed once more, they'll be back on your side. And that's how life is, so think carefully before accepting what people say—even the ones you trust," said Grindelwald, gracefully rising.
"Oh—are you leaving already?" said Harry, scrambling to his feet.
"Yes, my apologies…I have class soon," said Grindelwald, smiling sympathetically down at Harry.
"Thanks, Grindelwald," said Harry, and he found himself beaming back as they shook hands. "You give great advice."
"Just call me Yassen."
Pansy giggled, looking over to the Gryffindor table before showing the Slytherins the front page of the Daily Prophet during Saturday's breakfast. "Everyone, everyone; look at this!"
A large, unflattering photo of Potter occupied half the page. "AGAINST ALL ODDS – THE FOURTH TRIWIZARD CHAMPION" was emblazoned in bold below it. Draco shook his head in amusement. "That's Skeeter writing."
""I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me…"—Merlin, this is a goldmine," said one of the Slytherin girls, guffawing.
"…one of the top students in the school?" repeated Blaise.
"He must be an idiot to let Skeeter interview him," said Draco, smirking to no one in particular. "Well, more material for us—anyone has extra Support Diggory badges? I only have two left. I think they'll be in high demand after everyone reads today's paper. Anyone? No?"
"I'm out of badges. We can make some more later," said Pansy, checking her robe pockets.
"Morning, Yassen," said Draco as the tall boy sat down. "Where's Krum and the rest?"
"Krum? Krum's probably in the library," said Yassen, leaning over to peer at the paper Pansy was holding. "Is that about the Weighing?"
"I think it was supposed to be," said Pansy, giggling. She flipped to the last page of the article. "But look, Yassen—everything's about Potter—she wrote your name as just Yasen with a missing 's' and Fleur Delacour as "Flour Delacer"."
Yassen laughed heartily, as if he didn't mind at all. "And Cedric?"
"No mention at all," said Pansy with a disapproving note. "It's a pity Skeeter focused on Potter. I would have liked her to report on the actual Weighing instead of this sentimental gibberish. At least we get to tease Potter about it."
Draco removed a Support Cedric Diggory badge from his robes and offered it to Yassen. "On that note, want one, Yassen?"
"And look—if you press it," said Pansy, lightly tapping on her badge. "Support Cedric Diggory" changed to a glowing "Potter Stinks".
Yassen raised an eyebrow as he took the badge from Draco. "The charmwork is good."
"Thank you," said Pansy, looking uncharacteristically gleeful.
"No, thank you for this trinket instead," said Yassen as he tucked the badge into his robes with one hand. He smiled.
"Are you allowed to go to Hogsmeade? We have a Hogsmeade visit next Saturday," said Draco, who was eager to show him around Honeydukes.
"I'll have to practice for the First Task—but tell me if there's anything nice, will you?"
"It's Hogsmeade," said Blaise. "There always is something nice."
"It depends on your tastes, though," said Yassen, grimacing slightly as he gestured to the food on his plate. "I'm not very…accustomed to having such a heavy breakfast."
"Ironically, I think the elves think the foreign students like roast chicken—we never had so much chicken before," said Pansy. "But I agree! I'll put on weight at this rate."
"Oh, just go play some Quidditch," muttered Blaise, taking a very large bite out of his sausage.
"Quidditch is not a sport that—" intoned Pansy.
"Are you prepared for the First Task though?" said Draco, his eyes lighting up, turning to Yassen. "Do you know you'll have to do?"
"Sadly, no," said Yassen, drinking the last of his pumpkin juice. "In their words, they wanted to test our courage in the face of the unknown. So we'll all have to just wait."
"You sound so…unconcerned," said Pansy, frowning slightly. `
"I'm only concerned with putting up a good performance for everyone," said Yassen, smiling cheekily. "And of course, winning."
"Overconfidence," sniffed Pansy, before breaking into laughter. "Honestly, it's more of a well-deserved confidence."
"I agree with both, indeed. How is your Transfiguration going?" asked Yassen, stretching as he stood up and prepared to leave.
"Not well," said Blaise dryly. "I think perhaps we should just give up the idea, Draco. We're never going to be faster than Granger."
"We're close enough," retorted Draco. "I can swear to Merlin; I saw something disappear for a split second yesterday."
"Will you show me?" said Yassen, his interest seemingly piqued.
"That was more of an unexpected event," said Draco at once, not wanting to make a fool of himself. "I'm quite sure nothing will happen if I do it."
"Just try it. You'll only be learning it in your fifth year, according to you—it's not terrible if you can't do it," urged Yassen. "I'll help you out."
Draco looked around hesitantly before withdrawing his wand and pointing it at a piece of lettuce.
"Evanesco," he said, emphasizing the 'es' syllable and making a small, sweeping motion, just as the textbook said. "Yes, and nothing happens again," said Draco a bit sulkily.
"I'm not a very good teacher, but I'll try to show by example—" said Yassen. Bending down, he took hold of Draco's wand hand. "Think about…lettuce, and say the incantation again."
"Evanesco," repeated Draco, and as the words came out of his mouth, Yassen moved his hand in a quick, sweeping motion that abruptly came back to point at the lettuce. There was a sudden surge of heat at his wrist, travelling down his arm and through his fingers in opposite directions. Draco made a rather undignified face when he saw the lettuce vanish into thin air.
"It worked!" exclaimed Pansy immediately. "Was it the hand movement?"
"You'll have to ask Draco what he felt was different," said Yassen with his characteristic merry smile. "Goodbye, everyone; see you at dinner."
There was a small, varied chorus of 'goodbyes' as he left, and the spotlight quickly fell on Draco.
"So what did you feel exactly, Draco?" said Blaise excitedly.
"Feel?" repeated Draco. "A bit jittery."
"That wasn't the point," said Pansy.
"I know it wasn't," said Draco, feeling strangely happy. "Well…I felt a lot of magical power course through my wand arm…and…the hand movement was very big, almost dramatic. Actually, I don't even know if I could do that again."
"Let's go give it a try," suggested Pansy, getting to her feet. "Everyone's done eating already."
They all headed back for the dungeons, including Pansy's curious friends, and for that short while, Skeeter, the Tournament and "Potter Stinks" were all but forgotten. Yet the days passed quickly and soon it was November twenty-four—the day of the First Task.