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Chapter 10

That night no-one slept easily. Some were far too keyed up with joy, some with pure dread. The champions were thrilled with enthusiasm, for now. Most of the students were sportive enough to support their chosen champions, but not all could make this sacrifice.

The Beauxbatons were happy with Alrik as their choice, though some said that had Jean-Luc joined, he would surely have been champion. Even Jean-Luc agreed which was precisely why he had backed out. The Hogwarts champion was widely praised, especially by the other Ravenclaws.

It was the Durmstrang champion that caused the real divides. About a third of Durmstrang's students were half-bloods, like their champion, and they were mostly happy with the Goblet's choice. Another third didn't really care either way, but the final third caused the problems. Why hadn't a pure-blood been chosen? In fact, the only pure-blood in the competition was Hogwarts' champion…. When it should have been theirs! Hadn't Hogwarts brought quite a few Muggle-borns? Yet a pure-blood got to represent them…

Freya had decided that it might be a good idea if the teachers of Beauxbatons and Hogwarts that had joined the Tournament, would give guest lessons while they were at Durmstrang.

Hermione wasn't too keen, though Geoffrey was. Geoffrey rather liked the fierce Flying Instructor, whom also coached a successful Quidditch team, so no argument there. Hermione, however, thoroughly disliked the idea of teaching a class full of prejudiced students while their smirking teacher sat in the back watching her every move.

McGonagall said she just had to give it a go. Coordinate with Draco beforehand and take it in her stride. Perhaps they could give each other tips and tricks. Hermione found this optimism very unlike McGonagall, who was usually so pragmatic.

She knocked on the door of Draco's office. Better get it over with as soon as possible, she thought, as she took a deep breath. Draco answered the door with a "Ah, it's you…" He looked relieved, which rather puzzled Hermione.

"Expecting someone else?" she asked. His office was quite dark, barely lit. Hermione wondered how he could work like that or if he'd had perhaps taken a nap. Draco noticed her puzzled look. With a quick spell the silver chandelier grew much brighter, revealing a gothic office. It was as if nothing had changed since late Medieval days.

"I worried, perhaps… Elsa," he said, somewhat bitterly.

"Elsa, the Dueling Mistress?" Hermione rather disliked her.

Draco nodded. "Yes, she's started a petition to get the Goblet to choose again. Unhappy with Leila as champion," he explained.

"Are you going to sign it?" Hermione wanted to know. "Only Geoffrey says..." she fell silent.

"What does Geoffrey say?" Draco wondered. "We get along quite all right, as far as I can tell." He raised his eyebrows.

"He says you've got some issues with some of the students, the Muggle-haters, he calls them. That you're actually calling them out for their bigotry." Hermione resisted the urge to snort.

"There's a couple of them," Draco confirmed, "that are worse than the others. Some of them hoped to be champion themselves."

"And McGonagall expects me to teach them! Does she want to see me get hurt?"

"It won't come to that. Besides, I'll be there too."

Hermione shook her head in bewilderment. Having Draco as a protector was the weirdest idea ever. She began to giggle nervously. "Is that supposed to comfort me?" she laughed with a little tremor in her voice.

Draco grinned. "Sounds like something out of Beedle the Bard," he said, "I'd never thought I'd utter those words either."

Hermione smiled. "We better make it work then," she agreed. "I'm not sure what you've covered in your classes, or which textbooks you use…"

"Why don't you look around the Storeroom and see if what springs to mind," Draco suggested. "It's right through here." He led the way.

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. It was huge and there was so much choice! She thought Hogwarts' storeroom was something to be proud of. The cupboards were filled with the most interesting ingredients, jars and jars of liquids, bones, crushed leaves and much more.

"I'm impressed," she said, "It's wonderful."

Draco smiled. "Lots of choice, that's for sure. There will be a thing or two that you might be unfamiliar with," he drawled. "Hogwarts can be a bit squeamish sometimes…"

Hermione scowled at him. "We call that having a conscience," she spat as she looked around and gasped. "I see you've even got unicorn blood stored in here!"

Draco raised his shoulders. "Don't be so appalled. It's not like I collected it or anything. It's been here for ages…"

"Have you used it?" she asked sternly. "Have you forgotten that night in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Of course not! I'd never use it, but don't see any point in getting rid of it either!"

"Well, I think you should!" Hermione pursed her lips. This wasn't going well so far.

"I never agreed with being consciously unaware of the more…. amoral branches of magic," Draco tried to explain. "What's the point in pretending it doesn't exist?"

Hermione snorted. "You've done far more than that! Durmstrang is known for practicing the Dark Arts and teaching it!"

"That doesn't mean I'm going to use any of that stuff!"

"Why have it then?" she pushed. "Why not get rid of it?!"

"It's rare. It doesn't even belong to me, but to the school," he said, putting her in her place. "It's not for me to decide."

"Who's being consciously unaware now?" Hermione argued, when Draco made a stop sign with his hands.

"Calm down," he said coolly. "We're meant to make a lesson plan. Let's focus on that."

Hermione scowled but finally relented: "You're right. We're never going to agree anyway."

"No," he firmly stated, "but we're both supposed to be professionals."