Disclaimer: All Potterverse belongs to JK Rowlings.
Disclaimer: Due to the nature of this chapter, lines of Karkaroff's and some of Hagrid's are written by JK Rowlings. Part of this chapter takes place after Barty Crouch Sr. is "lost" in the woods, and I needed JK's setting to make it understandable. The scene itself diverts considerably from JK's . The words/actions of the ferret, Fang, Draco and all the Slytherins speaking at this scene are mine.
No infrigement is meant or implied.
Lady Lestrange
DRACO MALFOY AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE
By Lady Lestrange
The Ferret's Revenge
Draco went up to the Great Hall for breakfast, with both of Rita Skeeter's articles in hand. He didn't know which of her articles was funnier—the one about the Harry-Hermione-Krum love triangle or the one denouncing Dumbledore for the lack of protection for the Hogwart's Students. Of course, the second article had a much better picture: color photograph of Draco Malfoy instead of Harry Potter. Poor Krum, thought Draco. He was part of the love triangle and a Tri-Wizard contestant—contestant—yes, a much better word than Champion, Draco thought. But he didn't get his picture in the paper. Oh well, he was in the paper on the sports page often enough. Maybe that's why Rita decided not to use Krum's picture with Hermione. Personally, Draco thought the one by the lake with seaweed and a beetle in Hermione's bushy hair and Krum still half transfigured into a shark would have been a great joke.
In the article, Dumbledore was quoted as saying: "The fact that a fourteen year old boy apparated to the bottom of the lake, does not mean that the magics protecting Hogwarts are in any way faulty . . . He is of course, a very bright student—exceptional really--"
Draco's lips curled into their customary smirk. He doubted that he would ever have received praise from Dumbledore any other way. Of course, who cared what the old coot thought anyway?
Dumb-as-a door continued to dig himself in deeper and deeper as he tried to explain that the lake had been exempt from the protecting wards do to the fact that no one could apparate from outside of Hogwarts into the lake, nor could they apparate from the lake to outside of Hogwarts due to the perimeter protection wards. The bans on apparition WITHIN Hogwarts grounds were not protection spells. They were anti-cheating spells that prevented a student from apparating into a teacher's office and stealing an exam and then apparating back out again. Finally he flatly refused to answer any more questions about how the protections were set up—he cited the fact that revealing any more than he already had, would indeed compromise safety.
Draco sighed. Dumb-as-a-door, might not know it, but several Slytherins had found a few of those loopholes too. Of course no one could apparate into a teacher's office, but to disapparate from a secret passage which was deeper in the earth than the actual perimeter of Hogwarts grounds were was a possibility. Then apparate from one of the other secret passages was certainly a possible solution to staying hidden from that teacher while stealing the exam. In fact telling Dumb-as-a-door about one of those passages was how Draco got out of trouble for underage apparition—that and his sweet angelic smile—and Professor Snape. Of course Draco wouldn't tell about one of the passages that was used—there were so many—he just picked one of the older disused ones. Draco thumbed through the magazine looking for the other article. It wasn't there. Oh well, it should be out in print tomorrow or the next day—Youngest Wizard in History to get His Apparition License.
"Ahem."
Draco looked up, and to his surprise, found the Mudblood standing right in front of him, at the Slytherin table. A small blush tinged her cheeks, but she met his eyes. "I was wondering—" she began, as she fiddled with a parchment in her bag, and then she glanced at Vincent and Greg who were both slopping noisily in their breakfast plates, shoveling food as fast as they could. "Malfoy," she continued frowning when Greg noisily spat a fruit pit onto his plate and some of his food dribbled down his chin. "Do you think—we could talk—privately?"
Draco Malfoy let his eyes travel down from her bushy hair and mud brown eyes all the way to her toes, lingering ever so slightly at several opportune spots along the way. By the time his eyes reached her face again, her brown eyes were flashing fire and her face blushing crimson. "Not interested," he said blandly.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a parchment upon, which were written several names and a single button with the word: spew written on it. She tried to find a clean spot on the table to lay the parchment, but with Crabbe and Goyle nearby that was impossible. She snatched up Greg's unused napkin and mopped up a small portion of the table. Laying the parchment of the edge of the table she began to speak.
"I thought since you saved your house elf in the last task, you might want to join S. P. E. W. ? I think you will agree that house elves are—"
"Spew?" repeated Draco.
"It's S. P. E. W. Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. You sound like Harry and Ron—"
Crabbe choked and spewed food all over himself, the table and the parchment.
"S. P. E. W.?" Draco spelled, not wanting to be compared with Potter and Weasley in any way.
Draco's cool gray eyes appraised the Mudblood with amusement while she attempted to save the parchment. She tried to shake droplets of food off of her parchment, but they were stuck fast. She didn't want to do that over the floor, nor over the just cleaned spot on the table, nor over Vincent's plate, although he probably wouldn't have noticed-- Instead, she took Vincent's napkin and cleaned the worst of the food off, rolling the pieces of food in the napkin.
Draco rolled his eyes. Honestly, he thought was she a witch or not? He pulled out his wand and with a quick cleaning spell, removed the mess.
"Ah—thanks," she said, and then with typical Gryffindor bravado, she pushed on. "I just mean that the Tri-wizard poems said 'something that you would sorely miss,' would be taken, so you have to care about your house elf more than anyone thinks and if she was freed she would be—
"Freed! Did you swallow too much lake water, Granger? Potter lost us our house elf at the end of second year and it's taken us all this time to find another one that knows the meaning of the word 'work'."
"Yes, I know," said Hermione. "Dobby is here at Hogwarts now, and so is Winky, Mr. Crouch's elf—If you would just talk to Dobby, you would see--"
"I don't want to talk to Dobby, and I certainly have no intention of freeing my house elf," said Draco.
"Oh." She said softly. "Well, then fair wages—"
"And as far as buttons," Draco continued, standing and pinning one with his own smiling face on her robe. "You can have one of mine. Now, get lost."
With her face even more flushed than before, either with anger or with tears, Hermione turned and sprinted back to the Gryffindor table.
"Draco," said Greg. "Why DID they pick a house elf instead of one of us?"
"Because Tully's smarter?" ventured Pansy.
Vincent sniggered and then realized belatedly that Pansy had included him in that insult too.
"That's could be right, Pansy," said Draco. "After all she writes a great Transfiguration paper. Where else could I find another house elf who could fool McGonagall? I wouldn't even dream of asking Greg or Vincent to write a paper for me, especially not Transfiguration.. Plus, she does keep my robes pressed"
"And she does a great foot massage too, I suppose," said Pansy.
"Yes, there is that. But, don't worry, Pansy, you're a close second," Draco said. "You just need a little more practice and you'll be a good as Tully."
"What did Granger want?" asked Pansy changing the subject.
"To ask me to join S.P.E.W. ," said Draco showing her the button that Hermione had left behind. "And to try to get me to free my house elf."
The four of them spent the next few minutes chuckling.
"Can I have this?" asked Pansy suddenly, picking up the S.P.E.W. badge that Hermione had left behind.
Draco shrugged. "Go on then," he said. "But don't start talking wages and freedom to my house elf—"
"I won't," Pansy promised laughing.
Later that day, outside of the potions classroom, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and a few other Slytherins crowded around Pansy. She was passing out the transformed buttons.
"When did you have time to do this?" asked Draco. "You were in class all day."
"Binns," said Pansy shortly and Draco nodded. A smile growing on his face as he surveyed her handiwork.
Draco, Vincent, Greg, Pansy and a few other Slytherins were standing outside of their potions classroom plotting how to introduce the newly animated S.P.E.W. buttons. The letters S.P.E.W. were still evident, but the letters were smaller than on the original button and when you pushed the center, two Seekers flew around the button, one in Gryffindor red, the other in Bulgaria's red. A snitch with Hermione's wet head fluttered between them —Draco recognized the picture as when The Mudblood just came out of the lake—. The caption read: Snitch Potter's Experienced Whore.
"But you can't have them in the same color robes, Pansy," complained Greg. "Bulgaria's is bright blood red. Gryffindor's is darker. More—uh—"
"Whore house red?" suggested Draco.
The crowd sniggered.
"Here they come!" said Vincent.
It was possible, The Mudblood hadn't seen the copy of Witch Weekly with the article about the Potter-Granger-Krum so Pansy threw her a copy. With identical smirks on their faces, the whole group of Slytherins flashed their new buttons right before Professor Snape opened the door and beckoned them inside.
Harry turned a dark shade of crimson and Ron had already reached for his wand.
"Thinking of hexing someone, Weasel?" Draco's soft drawl was barely audible, but Snape frowned at Ron.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," said Snape.
"Wha—"
With a swish of robes, Professor Snape was inside. "Don't dawdle," Snape snapped. "The Wit Sharpening Potion we are brewing today will take all of our time."
"Be sure and get this potion right," Draco whispered to Longbottom as he passed his table. "You certainly need it."
Harry, Ron and Hermione headed for a table at the back of the dungeon as usual. Once Snape had turned his back on them to write up the ingredients of the Wit Sharpening Potion on the blackboard, Hermione rifled through the magazine under the desk. Only a few minutes into class, Professor Snape discovered them talking about the article and took another ten points from Gryffindor. "Ah. . . reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape added snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points from Gryffindor…oh but of course…Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings."
The dungeon rang with Slytherin laughter and to Draco's delight, Snape began reading the article, pausing at the end of each sentence to allow the laughter to die down enough that he could be heard again.
"Look," whispered Vincent to Greg. "Potter's face is Gryffindor red."
"Well, I'd better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Potter, that table in front of my desk. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Move. Now."
A look of pure delight came over Pansy's face as The Mudblood moved to her table. Granger, however, looked miserable.
Draco couldn't hear most of what Professor Snape was saying to Potter, but he did catch a few stray words
"Nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him—"
Then Potter burst out with "I haven't been anywhere near your office!"
"Don't lie to me—Gillyweed. Boomslang skin. . "
Suddenly Professor Snape thrust his hand beneath his robes and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. Draco knew what it was—veritaserum. It made Slytherin Truth or Dare so much more interesting! For just a moment Draco watched Professor Snape and Potter, anxious to see or more importantly hear, the serum used. Unfortunately, Professor Snape put the small vial back in his robe pocket. Just when Draco thought the class was going to get very interesting! Draco sighed and worked on his Wit Sharpening Potion.
Karkaroff came into the classroom and tried to engage Professor Snape in conversation. When Professor Snape wouldn't talk to him until after the lesson, Karkaroff hovered behind the professor's desk until class was over. Everyone was out of the classroom before Draco realized that Potter had stayed behind. Oh well, the other spies would pick up on Potter as soon as they could. It wasn't like they were missing anything about the tournament in the conversation with Professor Snape and Karkaroff. Obviously they were discussing the Dark Lord's bidding.
==
The last week of May, finally brought news of the Tri-Wizard Tournament Task. Professor Snape told Draco that all of the Champions were to meet down by the Quiddich Pitch at 9:00 that evening to hear what Gagman had to say about the final task. Draco was there by 8:30. Once again, the Champions had to wait for Potter. This time, however, Cedric was also late.
"The Champions who have the most points will get a head start in the maze," said Gagman. "That means of course, Draco Malfoy will go first, followed by Harry Potter. Then will come Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory and of course, the beautiful Fleur Delacour. The Champions listened to a few more minutes of Gagman's monologue and then dispersed to go their separate ways—except for Krum and Potter. They stayed to chat. That couldn't be good, but Draco wasn't worried. His spies were onto it.
As he was walking back to the Slytherin Common Room, a burly seventh year Slytherin caught up with him.
"Hi, Pritch," said Draco.
Owen Pritchard brought Draco some interesting news. "I don't think this has anything to do with the tournament," he said, "But your father might like to know. Sirius Black is back—living right outside of Hogsmeade—in a cave."
"Sirius Black?" asked Draco. "The Potter's secretkeeper?"
"There's more. Potter was talking to him like he was an old friend instead of the wizard who betrayed his parents." Owen continued to talk as Draco digested the news. What did this mean?
"You actually saw Sirius Black?" asked Draco.
"Well, yeah. A dog led them to a cave. I heard them talking. I saw Sirius Black. He's an animagus!"
"And how could you possibly know that!" said Draco.
"Oh, I knew you were going to ask that," said Owen. "That's why I didn't want to tell you. Couldn't you just believe me?" he whined.
"No," said Draco as he stopped to look at the boy. He was roughly the size of Goyle—maybe a little bigger. It wasn't like he could easily hide behind a tree, and if Potter went into the cave, it was impossible."
"I'm an animagus too," Owen whispered.
"That's great," said Draco. "What's your animagus?"
"Ferret," muttered Owen Pritchard under his breath.
"What?" said Draco. "I didn't hear you."
"Ferret," he repeated.
==
"Draco! Draco!" Mort Warrington interrupted as they were entering the Great Hall. "There's news," he panted. "Where's Professor Snape?"
"I think he went to Dumbledore's office. Why?" asked Draco.
I was following Krum when he and Potter were meeting down by the Forbidden Forest.
Draco's eyes narrowed. "So what are the two of them up to?"
"That's not it," said Mort. "It's Crouch. Old Barty Crouch is here. He's asking to see Dumbledore. He's a mess. Talking wild. It looks like he's fighting Impervious to me."
"Show me where," said Draco. Shouting over his shoulder at Pansy to "Get Snape!" Draco took off at a run after Mort. Draco's thoughts were in chaos. First Sirius Black and then Barty Crouch turning up. It had to mean something, but what? "Where was the Slytherin who was supposed to be following Potter?" Draco asked Mort..
"The question isn't where," said Mort. "It's who—It was Goyle. He'd probably still be running to Slytherin Dungeons, but I told him to watch Crouch."
"He'll screw it up," said Draco. "He never does anything right. He can't move fast enough to follow Crouch."
"He'll be alright," said Mort. "I told him to climb a tree and watch."
"Goyle can't climb a tree," said Draco incredulously.
"Well, he did need a little help—"said Mort with a twinkle in his eye. "But I haven't practiced Impervio for a while anyway. It seemed like a good time."
"Good thing you didn't send him for me," said Draco. "He'd probably forget the password again." Draco stopped short. Something moved in the trees ahead of them, and both Mort and Draco reached for their wands.
"Stupefy!" came the sound of a spell through the trees. A bright flash of green light and "Avada Kedavra" followed it almost immediately!
"Bloody Hell," whispered Mort.
"Who is it?" whispered Owen who had followed them.
"Moody," whispered Draco in amazement. He wouldn't soon forget the sound of his Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher's voice—not after the terrifying minute and a half he spend as a bouncing ferret. Draco hated Moody more than he feared him and had been looking for a way to get even. Maybe this was it. Placing his finger on his lips to signify quiet, he inched forward. He wondered where Goyle was hidden.
Moody was bending over Crouch's dead body. He glanced around as if worried that he was being watched. That magical eye swiveled wildly and Draco slid back behind the tree. When he peeked out again, Moody was in the process of transfiguring Crouch's body into a bone. It was a small bone. It would have fit in the palm of Draco's hand if he could only reach it. There it was the incriminating evidence to put Moody away in Azkaban! Then it dawned on Draco. If Moody was an auror, then Crouch must have been a Death Eater, and that certainly didn't seem like it was possible. No. The Death Eater then, must be Moody. That seemed much more likely, but who could it be? Wondered Draco. Death Eater or not, he had turned Draco into a ferret in what was one of his most embarrassing moments, not to mention painful. Moody would pay.
"Pritch? Do you think you could get the bone?" Draco asked.
Pritch shook his head. "I could dig it up after he leaves, but I can't sneak it from under his nose, Draco. He's an auror. It would be suicide."
"No, he's not—" began Draco when there was suddenly a huge crash. . Everything happened at once. Greg Goyle and a tree branch fell smack in front of Moody, the branch knocking the wooden leg out from under him. Rolling into a crouch, Moody shouted "Constant Vigilance!" and hit Greg with a stunning charm. Of course, Greg wasn't quiet. He was rolling around on the ground and grunting like a mountain troll. Owen took the moment to change into a ferret and snatch the coveted bone. Moody, still on the ground, sent a shower of sparks after the ferret, but it was too fast, dodging for a hole under the tree. Moody hobbled to his feet.
Unfortunately, Potter and Dumbledore turned up at about the same time, and discovered Krum, out cold on the forest floor. Moody almost walked into Dumbledore in his haste to get to the ferret.
"AH! Professor Moody," said Dumbledore.
"Damned leg," he said furiously, and then recovering his wit, he swiveled his magical eye on the ferret while watching Dumbledore with his normal eye. "Would've been here quicker.. . .What's happened? Snape said something about Crouch—"
"He attacked me!" Krum interrupted, putting a hand up to his head. "The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind."
While Potter and Dumb-as-a-door were worrying about Krum, Moody was unobtrusively trying to catch the ferret who was hopping just out of reach with the bone in his mouth. Hampered by his bad leg, Moody was in no shape to compete with the wickedly fast little creature. Draco got a whole new respect for ferrets.
"I want to fix this moment in my mind forever," Draco whispered to Mort. "Did you ever see anything as funny as that ?" Although he was enjoying the sight of Moody hopping and squirming, Draco shivered. He didn't think he could have brought himself to put that bone in his mouth even if he was thinking like a ferret. Being an animagi did strange things to people's minds he decided. Look how weird McGonagall was!
Meanwhile, Dumbledore called Hagrid by conjuring a summoning bird with his wand.
The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow.
"Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his eyes widening. "Harry—what the—"
"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff immediately," said Dumbledore. "His student has been attacked."
No one had as yet noticed the ferret except, of course Moody, but the wizard was now accompanied by Fang, who was frantically trying to dig the little creature out from under the roots of the tree, from which Greg had fallen. Greg, of course, was now complaining loudly until Dumbledore asked him just why he happened to be in the tree in the first place.
Greg, typically, couldn't think of a single thing to get himself out of the predicament. Draco sighed and stepped out from behind the trees. Mort Warrington followed him.
"Malfoy!" cried Potter angrily.
"It was a bet, Sir," said Draco, looking at Dumbledore with his best innocent, little boy, look. "I bet Greg he couldn't climb that tree, and well I guess he did it, even though he fell out."
"That's right," said Mort. "So pay up, Malfoy."
Moody taking the moment while Dumbedore's attention was on Draco to try to sneak a stupefy spell at the ferret, hit Fang.
Fang yelped and ran back to Hagrid. He growled viscously at Moody, but didn't leave Hagrid's side again.
"What the—" began Hagrid, glaring at Moody.
"That ferret is holding something," Said Moody.
"Dust bins," murmured Draco as he took a silver sickle out of his pocket and handed it to Greg.
Greg looked stupidly at the sickle.
"Put it in your pocket, Greg," said Draco.
Greg complied.
"What happened to Crouch, Malfoy?" Potter demanded. Potter seemed to be the only one interested in keeping the focus on what REALLY happened here tonight.
Draco ignored him.
"Did you see Mr. Crouch?" Dumb-as-a-door finally asked Draco. "Did you see who attacked Mr. Krum?"
"No sir," said Draco seriously.
"And you Mr. Warrington?"
Most shook his head. "No sir."
Potter snorted in disbelief. "You were right here. You had to have seen Crouch."
"Crouch?" said Hagrid blankly.
"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" said Dumbledore sharply, as Snape approached, robe billowing out behind him.
"Oh, yeah . . . right y'are, Professor . . . " said Hagrid, and he turned toward the dark trees, calling Fang to come with him, but Fang began to dig at the tree roots again. "Come on there, Fang!" called Hagrid again, and reluctantly, Fang left the ferret and followed Hagrid with a last growl at Moody.
"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "But it's essential that we find him."
"I'm onto it," growled Moody, and he pulled out his wand –
Pritch leaped from the cover of the tree roots and scampered up Snape's robes and into his pocket. Snape apparently recognized the little fellow because he didn't blink an eye as the ferret sought safety in his robe.
Moody glared at Snape, his wand trained on him. "Snape—what was that—"
"Professor Snape was with me until just a few minutes ago," said Dumbledore coldly. "And he had nothing to do with this incident.
"But he has that ferret—"
"I wasn't aware that was a crime," said Snape "If it were, I believe you were the first to be caught in the company of a ferret—" Professor Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out, instead of the ferret, the bone. He looked at it curiously for a moment.
"What is it?" asked Dumbledore.
Moody held out his hand. "Let me see. It looks like—" He began.
"Potion ingredient," said Snape dropping it back into his pocket. "Bone of Hippogrift" Turning
his sharp black eyes on Moody, Snape continued. "And the ferret belongs to a friend. I'm--pet-sitting." Snape looked like he was ready to gag on those last two words, but Moody dared not contradict him in front of Dumbledore.
Dumbledore just looked at Snape with a twinkle in his eye.
Moody, however, stared at Snape in utter loathing, and then turned on his heel and walked into the woods to search for a Mr. Barty Crouch, who he knew he would not find.
Hagrid and Karkaroff returned. Karkaroff was wearing his sleek silver furs and looked pale and agitated.
"What is this?" he cried when he saw Krum and Goyle on the ground with Dumbledore, Snape, Harry and Draco standing beside them.
"I vos attacked!" said Krum.
"By this—this gorilla!" cried Karkaroff pointing at Goyle.
"No," said Krum. "By Mr. Crouch or votever his name—"
"Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"
Igor," Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking livid. He rambled on about treachery, and spat on the ground at Dumbledore's feet.
In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against that same tree, so recently abused.
"Apologize!" Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid's massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling in midair.
"Hagrid, no!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing.
Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle beside Goyle in the pile of dirt Fang had dug from the roots. A few twigs and leaves showered down upon him.
"Headmaster," interrupted Professor Snape, "May I take the students back to their dormatories?"
"Yes, of course," said Dumbledore looking distracted.
"Potter," spat Professor Snape as Harry hung back, unwilling to go with Snape and the Slytherins. Draco couldn't say he'd blame him.
Dumbledore glanced at Harry. "Hagrid, will you kindly escort Harry to Gryffindor Tower, while Professor Snape takes the Slytherins to their dormitories? And stay there," said Dumbledore, eyes flashing.
"I'll leave Fang," said Hagrid, staring menacingly at Karkaroff, who was still tangled in furs and tree roots.
"Stay Fang. Come on, Harry."
Fang immediately went to the bottom of the tree and with a low growl began digging a breath away from Karkaroff's thigh. Karkaroff moved quickly out of the way.
==
Snape said nothing until they were safely in Slytherin House. Draco hoped to slip upstairs to bed, but as they entered the Dungeon, Snape snarled. "My office." He pulled Pritch out of his pocket and put him on a chair. "Transform, now." He said.
After Owen Pritchard was a boy again, Professor Snape froze them with his dark eyes.
Steepling his fingers as he sat at his desk, he asked, "What exactly do I have in my pocket?"
"Bone of Hippogrift?" said Draco hopefully.
"Not likely," snarled Snape.
"The truth is much stranger," said Owen."You won't believe it."
"Try me, "said Snape.
"It's Crouch's body," said Draco. "Moody was trying to bury it."
"Crouch was fighting the Impervious curse," said Mort Warrington. "I'm sure of it, sir."
"Explain, Mr. Warrington." Said Snape.
"Crouch was a physical wreck and he was babbling to the trees. He thought he was talking to his assistant—ah--"
"Weatherby," supplied Draco.
"That's it," said Mort "He thought he was talking to Weatherby, and then when he broke through, he told Potter that he had to talk to Dumbledore. He said that he had done a terrible thing—something about his son and Bertha Jorkins—He kept saying he was sorry--"
Snape got paler than his usual sallow color. "Who heard this?" he asked tightly.
"Potter and Krum," said Mort. "Then Potter went for Dumbledore and left Krum guarding Crouch. As soon as Potter was out of sight, Crouch panicked. He said Krum was 'one of his' and was trying to run. Krum stunned him, so I thought he would stay put, and I ran to look for you—"
"For me?" questioned Snape.
"Well you and Draco," said Mort. "I thought you would be in the Dungeon. When you weren't there, we sent Pansy to find you, and Draco and I went back to the Forest."
"And what about you, Mr. Goyle?" asked Snape. "What were you doing in that tree?"
Goyle, oblivious to Mort and Draco's warnings to be quiet, said, "Spying on Potter."
Snape glared at Draco. "And what, Mr. Goyle, did you observe from your vantage point in the tree?" Snape asked.
"Ah—nothing Sir," said Goyle. "I—ah—I had my eyes closed. I'm scared of heights."
"Well, then why did you climb the tree!" shouted Snape.
"Well, Mort—"
"I helped him!" Interrupted Mort in a panic. "So he could keep a lookout—"
Snape looked from one to the other in consternation. "I don't think I want to know," said Snape. "I suppose you were spying on Krum?" Snape asked Mort.
"Yes, sir."
Professor Snape sat in his desk chair and steepled his fingers in front of his face. "I think, I need to borrow your Eagle owl, Mr. Malfoy. None of the school owls will know where to go—"
"Professor," said Draco. "Who is Moody? He can't really be Moody can he? Would Professor Moody, an ex-auror kill Barty Crouch? It doesn't make sense."
"Boomslang skin," muttered Professor Snape. "It makes perfect sense. –But I was so sure it was Potter--"
"Sir?" asked Draco.
"The Poly juice potion," said Snape. "I don't know who it is yet. But we will know when we replace his Polyjuice brew with one of my own making. I need to brew a potion. Then, in four days time, I will require your assistance Mr. Pritchard. The replacement potion will be ready then."
"But four days is the day before the Third Task," said Draco.
"I know," replied Snape, his eyes flashing. "Perfect, isn't it?" Snape began scribbling on a piece of parchment. "All of you may go back to your dormitory, except for you Draco." He said.
They filed out of the room. The only sound was the scratch-scratch of Professor Snape's quill on the parchment. He folded the piece of parchment and sealed it. "In the morning," said Professor Snape, "You will have your Eagle owl deliver this to the Dark Lord. He knows where to go. Simply tell him Lord Voldemort. I don't need to tell you not to get caught doing this, do I?"
"Of course not," said Draco, taking the parchment and slipping it into his robe pocket.
"Good night, Mr. Malfoy."
"Good night, Professor," said Draco.
When Draco got to his room he looked at the envelope in his hand. Unlike most wizarding letters, this one had no name and no address. It was completely blank, so that if anyone intercepted the owl, they would not know where Lord Voldemort was hidden. After looking at it for a moment, Draco put the envelope under his pillow and lay down to sleep.
==
Four days later, the owl had already made its trip and returned. Draco wondered where The Dark Lord was. He had to be closeby for the owl to return so quickly.
Professor Snape told Draco and Owen to tell Professor Sprout when they arrived at herbology that he needed to replace the ginger root he had used in the Wit Sharpening Potion before his sixth period class. Sprout sent Draco and Owen back to Snape with the roots. When they arrived at Snape's office with the roots, Professor Snape said, "Minister Fudge is here with Ludo Bagman. They will be touring the Tri Wizard Tournament Maze in a few minutes. It is a perfect time for you to alter the potion." He gave them a small amount of liquid in a container and told them to add it directly to the cauldron of polyjuice when they found it. "I would imagine it's in his trunk." Snape said.
"But sir," said Draco. "How are we going to get past all of his dark wizard detectors?"
"I'll leave that to your ingenuity, young Mr. Malfoy, but I do have some help for you—"
"What's that?" asked Draco.
Snape held out a ring of keys. "For Moody's trunk," he said, his eyes darkening dangerously. "It's a pity you can't ransack his room like he did my lab—unfortunately you'll have to be very careful to put everything back exactly as you found it or he may suspect the polyjuice potion."
Five minutes later, Draco and a small ferret were entering Moody's room. "Professor Moody," called Draco, from the doorway. "Professor Moody," he called again loudly.
All of the dark wizard detectors were whirling, but Draco did not move from the door. Hopefully, the wizard detectors would focus on him and miss the tiny ferret, keys in its mouth, crawling along the floor to Moody's trunk. The ferret fitted the first key into the lock, but couldn't open the lid. There was no help for it. Pritch had to transform back into human form. He opened the trunk. Nothing was there but a bunch of spellbooks. Draco could see them from the doorway. The second lock opened on some more dark wizard detectors and an Invisibility Cloak. His hands itched to touch the silky material, but he remained at the door. The third lock opened to a large bottle and a brewing cauldron—polyjuice potion! Owen looked doubtful, but decided to split the potion Snape had given them between the two containers. Then he hastily closed the lids and locked the trunk. The ferret had just scampered into Draco's pocket with the keys, when a hand closed on the back of Draco's neck.
"What have we here?" growled Moody. Sneaking around, poking that little ferret nose into things that don't concern you.
"I didn't touch anything," whined Draco. "I was just looking for you. I wanted to talk to you—about the other night—"
"Is that so?" said Moody. "Well, talk." Moody didn't remove his hand from Draco's neck. If anything the fingers tightened.
Draco licked his dry lips, thinking frantically—Who else knew anything at all about Moody—or Crouch—or—suddenly an idea came to Draco. Moody's office was on the main corridor. If only he could bluff long enough, someone was sure to come down the corridor—"In second year, my father dismissed one of our house elves," said Draco. "He came here to work. I check on him occasionally to be sure—Well, I check on him for--Father—" spat Draco.
He couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice, as he thought about his father—telling him to lose the Tri-Wizard Tournament—He hadn't spoken to him since the First Task. He had sent back all owls unopened—even the money and candy. Of course, his mother re-sent them secretly—
As Draco spoke, the ferret stealthily worked his way out of Draco's pocket and down the folds of his robe.
"What does this have to do with the other night?" Croaked Moody.
"I recently learned another sacked house elf is here—Crouch's house elf."
"Winky," said Moody softly. "Winky is here? Are you sure?"
Something in the tone of Moody's voice told Draco exactly who Moody was--under the polyjuice potion—young Barty Crouch. Very few people remembered their own house elves' names. Only Hermione remembered other people's house elves' names. Silently, the ferret darted along the floor and headed towards the dungeon.
"What was that?" said Moody, his magic eye swiveling to follow the progress of the ferret.
"I think it was Snape's ferret," replied Draco cooly. "I should get to class. I just wanted to tell you what I remembered, Sir."
"Certainly," said Moody in a distracted sort of way. "And young Malfoy—I hope that you harbor no angry feelings about the ferret incident."
"Oh, no sir, I don't." Said Draco, thinking I don't get angry; I just get even—
"We don't all need to turn out like our fathers, you know."
"I intend to be better than my father," said Draco evenly.
"Good. Good," replied Moody, as Snape strode into the hall. "Aren't you supposed to be in class, Mr. Malfoy?" he reprimanded Draco. "I sent you back to herbology a good ten minutes ago—"
"Yes, Professor," said Draco. He nodded to Moody and hurried off to herbology.
Later that day, there was a few minutes of unease when Rita Skeeter told him that Potter had a vision in Trelawney's class. By evening the rumors said that an Eagle owl played a prominent part in that vision. Malfoy wondered if Potter knew what kind of owl he had. Just to play it safe, he sent the owl home to Malfoy Manor with a message that the owl was sick and had to be quarantined from the owlry.
The next day, Rita Skeeter's article appeared: HARRY POTTER "DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS".
Right beside it was the article Draco had been waiting for: DRACO MALFOY: YOUNGEST WIZARD IN HISTORY TO GET APPARITION LICENSE.
Life was good.
==
"Draco, the Champions are to meet in the chamber off of the Great Hall after breakfast," said Professor Snape.
Draco nodded. "Thank you, Sir." He really had no desire to meet with his family—his mother maybe, but certainly not his father. He had nothing to say to him. He should be proud, Draco thought angrily. He should be glad that his son was leading in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but no, he wanted him to lose. Perhaps he had placed a bet against him—like he really needed more money-- Draco bit his lip and pushed his food around his plate.
Fleur Delacour got up from the Ravenclaw table and went into the chamber. Then Cedric and Krum followed. Harry Potter was still sitting at the Gryffindor table. For just a moment, their eyes met, and then Cedric was sticking his head out of the chamber. "Hey Potter! Malfoy! Come on. They're waiting for you."
Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian.
"Surprise!" said Mrs. Weasley excitedly "We thought we'd come and watch you Harry! She bent down and kissed him on the cheek.
Draco glanced at his own parents who were talking sedately to one another in the corner opposite the Krum's. Draco imagined they were not at all excited to be associating with such a motley group. His father put his arm around Narcissia's waist and even Draco saw her stiffen. He grinned wickedly and turned away from his parents as if he hadn't seen them.
"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," he said. "Mr. Weasley." They both stared at him for a moment, and then they recovered their manners, but just barely.
"Hello Draco," Mrs. Weasley said tightly.
"Your parents are over there," said Mr. Weasley with a gesture to Lucius and Narcissia.
"Oh I know," replied Draco, hoping to stir up a little excitement. He remembered the last time Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy had a "conversation" it had descended to fisticuffs. Narcissia had taunted him for weeks about it and refused to magic his black eye healed. Of course, it was all a cover up for his father putting Tom Riddle's diary into Ginny Weasley's transfiguration book, but neither Draco nor his mother knew that at the time, and his mother teased his father unmercifully. "Did you forget you had a WAND, dear? Must have been the association with those Granger muggles—pushed the thought of magic right out of your mind—"
Harry was shaking hands with Bill Weasley, and over Harry's shoulder Draco saw something that kicked his cunning Slytherin mind into overdrive. Fleur, the girl whose grandmother was a veela, was drooling over Bill Weasley. At least, thought Draco, he was probably the best of the Weasley's. His hair was slightly darker, auburn instead of that bright orange, and Bill attempted to add some fashion to the rags he called robes. "What sort of fang is that?" Draco asked indicating the fang earrings Bill was wearing.
"Oh, dragon," said Bill. "Charlie thought I'd like them."
"Seems awfully small for a dragon," said Draco.
"It was a baby," said Bill. "It died within a month after hatching. Charlie was devastated. It was the first nestling he had lost."
"I think someone else may like your earrings," said Draco indicating Fleur. "Or maybe she likes something else—"
As soon as Bill met her eyes, Fleur sent a wave of veela charm their direction. Draco immediately felt his mouth go slack and was walking towards her, steering Bill beside him, not that Bill needed any encouragement.
By the time they reached her, the shockwaves of the veela magic had worn down a little for Draco since Fleur had eyes only for Bill. Bill, however, looked totally entranced.
"Fleur?" said Draco. His voice was soft and husky, infused with emotion. She looked at him like he was a slug, totally beneath her notice. With effort he tried to remove the frog from his throat and contain himself. "May I introduce, Bill Weasley," said Draco, tearing his eyes from Fleur. He found himself looking instead into the murky blue pits of ice that Fleur's mother called eyes.
Draco had a sense of her talents, yet they were under strict control. "Your husband did not come to see Fleur in the tournament?" he asked in flawless French.
"No," said her mother. "I do not have a husband. Veelas, even half veelas such as myself, find such relationships—confining."
"Would you like to meet my parents?" Draco asked smoothly taking her hand and leading her forward. Draco had expected to feel a jolt of her special power, but none came. "My father feels the same way. I wonder if he has any veela blood."
"Unlikely," said Fleur's mother brushing her silky blonde hair back. "Since your mother and father are still together."
"Oh, well, that's just for appearances," Draco continued, still in French. "She hates him, but he is after all a Malfoy."
"And this being a Malfoy," asked Fleur's mother. "What does that mean?"
According to my father," said Draco, with a smirk, "It means that you are in strict control of your emotions at all times." He held eye contact with her for a moment longer than was necessary and the ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. "Óf course, mother is the one who can appreciate a little joke—"
Switching back to English, Draco said, "Hello Mother. Father. I'd like you to meet Mrs. Delacour. She's Fleur's mother. Turning to his parents, he said, Narcissia and Lucius."
His mother smiled and held out her hand, which Mrs. Delacour acknowledged. Then she turned to his father. She spoke to him softly in French, and Lucius face colored ever so slightly.
"Is she a veela?" Narcissia whispered to Draco.
"Half veela," said Draco.
"My good looks are only matched by my money," Lucius said pompously. "As a matter of fact, ask Draco. Last year I bought new Nimbus 2001's for the entire quiddich team."
"I thought you were buying Firebolts this year," said Draco encouragingly.
Narcissia snorted with laughter.
"Oh yes, I am," agreed Lucius loudly. "I'm just waiting for the new Firebolt II. I'm sure it will come out before the autumn quiddich season. I've spoken to the CEO of the company about that. He's a personal friend, you know. Then once again I will buy the entire quiddich team the newest, latest brooms. Only the best for my son!" Lucius boomed.
Potter groaned. "New brooms," he muttered. "That's the only way Slytherin can win."
"Oh, no," said Lucius, glaring at Potter. "I have great faith in my son. He will beat you next year Harry Potter."
"Sure," said Harry dryly. "With all the Slytherins on new brooms and half the rest of the school on comet 260's how can he help winning. It's not much of an accomplishment, is it?"
"New brooms for everyone, then," announced Lucius happily. "Yes, new brooms for ALL of the Quiddich Teams!"
"Draco hung his head and groaned. "Do you want to go for a walk, Mother?"
"I think I'd better rescue your father," Narcissia said. "Before he gets on to topics that he shouldn't discuss, or decides to use our savings to redecorate Hogwarts."
"Or worse, gives Dumb-as-a-door a raise," laughed Draco.
"Well then," Narcissia started to move toward Lucius, but Draco stopped her, suddenly serious. "Mum. Why does Father want me to lose the Tri Wizard Tournament?"
"I don't know," said Narcissia. "Maybe he's changing his tactics. He always tells you to win at Quiddich
and that hasn't worked, has it?"
Draco's face fell. "I thought you at least had some faith in me," he whined.
"Of course I do Dear," said his mother with a quick grin. "I have faith in you to get exactly what you want. The question, Draco, is what do you want?"
A/N: Coming up next, the THIRD TASK. A bit more Moody, and of course, what is Draco going to do when he gets portkeyed to the Dark Lord—or do you think he should lose?
Please review. I'd love to hear your suggestions.
Lady Lestrange