Disclaimer: I do not support Rowling's views. All Harry Potter characters and the Wizarding World, unfortunately, belong to she-who-must-not-be-named.
The Warrington's and the Malfoy's began their procession to the stadium. Their parents ahead, Draco, Ophelia, and Cassius were conversing behind them.
"Do you want to buy some?" asked Cassius, gesturing to the omnioculars piled on a cart next to them.
"Sure, three pairs," Draco told the sales wizard.
"You don't have to buy for us Draco," Ophelia informed Draco.
Draco paid the wizard 30 galleons for the omnioculars and handed one each to Cassius and Ophelia, "What is it that you always say? Spend daddy's money."
Cassius snorted. "That's the spirit, Draco!"
After a long ascent to the Top Box, the families finally reached their destination. Ophelia heard a voice. "Ah, here's Lucius and Nicholas!"
The three of them noticed Potter, Granger, and what appeared to be the majority of the Weasley family amongst other Ministry officials and international dignitaries.
Draco leaned down to Ophelia's ear. "I've never seen so many weasels gathered together like this."
She stifled a giggle, masking it with a delicate cough. "I didn't know there were more after Percy."
He shrugged, and they followed their parents'.
"Ah, Fudge," said Lucius, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"
"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Narcissa. "And Nicholas, Amara, wonderful to see you again! Your children, yes?" Fudge motioned to her and Cassius.
"Yes, Cassius and Ophelia," said Nicholas.
"Welcome, welcome! Everyone, allow me to introduce Mister–well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic. He can't exactly understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else, you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"
It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Lucius looked at each other. Ophelia, Cassius, and Draco exchanged knowing looks, recalling the last time they had come face-to-face. It was before Draco and Ophelia's second year, the two men had been in Flourish and Blotts' bookshop and fought one another. Lucius's cold grey eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.
"Good lord, Arthur," Lucius said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"
Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."
"Er, how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile.
Lucius nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley. He and Narcissa took a seat in the row behind the Weasley's, Potter, and Granger.
Ophelia and Cassius silently criticized the older Malfoy who was judging the Gryffindors. Although Lucius was almost like a second father to them, the ideals that the man had left a sour taste to them. Ophelia felt Draco's body stiffen beside her, he was slightly uncomfortable with his father's smug attitude.
"And you know Nicholas Warrington, Great Britain's delegate for the International Confederation of Wizards. As well as a member of the Wizengamot," said Fudge pompously.
"A pleasure to see you again, Arthur," Nicholas shook the Weasley patriarch's hand.
Mr. Weasley was surprised by their father's sincerity. "Of course, we should meet in the Ministry when you're free!" Mr. Weasley said.
"Certainly," Nicholas reassured. He led Amara to her seat, and the two of them sat beside the Malfoy couple.
Draco felt the stares coming from Potter, Granger, and the young Weasley's. He shot them a contemptuous look.
Cassius took the lead and passed their Hogwarts classmates, nodding at them with acknowledgment and Ophelia sent them a courteous smile.
Draco guided Ophelia, his hand softly resting on her lower back. They settled into their seats, Ophelia sat between Draco and her brother. She ignored the tingling feeling she had where Draco's hand was, concluding that she was just cold due to the altitude.
The Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman charged into the box. "Everyone ready?" he said.
"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.
Bagman took out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of the stadium. His voice echoed, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup! And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!" The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.
"Hm, Veela," Lucius sneered.
Ophelia used her omnioculars and saw a hundred Veela gliding out onto the field. She was quite impressed by the beautiful creatures, they were able to seduce weak men to succumb to their will. If anything, it said something about that man's character over the Veela. Though, Veela can be rather nasty when they get angry, assuming their bird-like appearance.
The Veela had started to dance and Ophelia noticed Potter and the young Weasley boys began to stand and lean closer to the railings, mesmerized by the creatures. Yet Ophelia noted that Mr. Weasley, Lucius, and her father were totally unaffected. Curious, she looked from her brother on her right and Draco on her left. To no surprise, Cassius was unfazed. Ophelia made a mental note to send a letter to Thalia.
Draco's eyes were slightly glazed over, but he sensed Ophelia studying him. He smirked and held her gaze. "Sorry to disappoint you Warrington, but I'm not pathetic compared to that lot," He nodded to the Gryffindors in front of them, "there has to be more than good looks to get my attention."
Ophelia never noticed how his eyes shone like silver, especially under the lights of the stadium. Those eyes that she's known for years. They held every emotion he felt; every hope or ambition that Draco had reflected onto her. Ophelia felt her face warm under his intense eye contact, so she averted her eyes and focused back on the field. Content with her reaction, Draco relaxed in his seat. She briefly glimpsed at her friend beside her, a strange warmth spread through her chest.
The music stopped, and the Gryffindor boys finally came to their senses. As he returned to his seat, Potter glanced at Ophelia for a split second. He quickly sat down, embarrassed by his actions because of the Veela. From her seat, Ophelia could see Potter's red ears.
The Irish mascots lightened the mood, leprechauns soared in a shape of a shamrock, raining heavy gold coins.
"There you go," Weasley yelled happily, stuffing a fistful of gold coins into Potter's hand, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"
Cassius, Ophelia, and Draco snickered. The poor boy didn't know that it was fool's gold.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome–the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!"
"Look, Draco! It's the love of your life," Ophelia nudged his shoulder, pointing to Krum.
He grumbled, but he couldn't deny that he admired the young Quidditch player.
"And now, please greet–the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman.
"Hmm, and there's your idol," reciprocated Draco.
Cheering for her favorite player, Ophelia screamed, "Yeah! Go, Quigley!"
Bagman introduced the referee, Hassan Mostafa, and the match began.
"They're off!" screamed Bagman.
Within fifteen minutes, Ireland had scored three times, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters. Ophelia and Cassius joined the applause, but Draco was slightly dejected that the Bulgarian team was losing. Yet he didn't mind since he enjoyed Ophelia's dramatic reactions to each play.
Finally, Bulgaria scored their first goal. The two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. At the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.
"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice.
"Maybe you should try that move on Potter, Dra! You might be able to catch the snitch against him. For once," taunted Cassius.
"If you scored more, we wouldn't have to rely on a stupid Snitch to make up our points. Thankfully Pucey pulls your weight and Ophelia demolishes the other Chasers," Draco remarked.
Draco and Cassius continued to bicker. Ophelia rolled her eyes. They always ended up arguing about the Slytherin Quidditch team and how they could improve. As the Seeker, Draco was able to see the team's overall performance during a game since he was able to watch when he couldn't find the Snitch. Whereas Cassius was a playmaking Chaser–making assists were his priority over scoring goals himself–so he observed the cooperation of the team almost as often as Draco.
Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with professional ease. After 30 more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by 130 to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. The Beaters on both sides were now acting without mercy: the Bulgarians, in particular, seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.
"Ugh, I just wanna play Quidditch now," complained Ophelia.
"Just wait a few more weeks and we'll be back to practice, Lia," Cassius reassured his sister.
She nodded, but Ophelia and Draco shared a look. They knew the Quidditch season was most likely going to be canceled due to the Triwizard Tournament.
The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.
"Oof, that's got to hurt," proclaimed Cassius.
Draco turned to Ophelia. "He's your favorite player?"
There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, one of the Veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.
"Well, look at his accuracy." She gestured to Krum's bleeding face.
"She's mad," Draco muttered under his breath.
"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him–" Ron Weasley hollered.
"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled.
"Aw, you should talk to Potter and Weasley! You're on the same page with them," said Ophelia sweetly.
Draco scoffed and concentrated on the match again, ignoring what his best friend said. He noticed Krum and Lynch flying with purpose. "I think they found the Snitch."
She scanned the scoreboard, Ireland was up by 160 points. "If Krum catches the Snitch, Bulgaria would still lose."
Cassius and Draco checked the score as well. "You've got to be fucking kidding," said Draco, exasperated by the maths.
The Warrington siblings grinned at Draco's disappointment.
The two seekers dove for the Snitch, and for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force. He was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry Veela. "Poor, Lynch. He can't catch a break tonight," said Cassius.
"Or the Snitch," said Ophelia. She pointed to Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose and his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.
The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd. Cassius and Ophelia jumped out of their seats, excited that their team won.
"A fool! He should've waited for Bulgaria to score two more goals," Draco criticized, standing begrudgingly.
"Please, they only scored one goal in what, less than two hours? It was never going to happen!" Cassius said happily.
Ophelia agreed with her brother. "Cas is right! Bulgaria didn't have a chance against the synergy of the Irish team."
"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.
"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice. The three of them turned to the man sitting next to Draco; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.
"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"
"Veil, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian Minister, shrugging.
Ophelia, Draco, and Cassius suppressed their laughter. It wasn't necessarily shocking that a foreign minister was proficient in English, but that their own minister didn't even try to speak with the Bulgarian Minister with any amount of genuine effort.
"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.
"Hold on! Aren't we in the Top Box?" Ophelia exclaimed.
The Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, she saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.
"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers–Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.
And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively.
One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked awful. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face and he was still holding the Snitch. When Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.
"So close yet so far away," Cassius pestered, Krum was only a few feet away from Draco.
"Oh, shut it," Draco retorted. However, she could tell that Draco was internally fanboying. His back straightened and his eyes sparkled slightly due to the proximity of his favorite Seeker.
"Well, if you're not going to talk to him." Ophelia moved past Draco and the Bulgarian Minister then approached Krum.
Ophelia began to speak in Bulgarian. "Good evening! My name is Ophelia Warrington. My friend is a fan of yours." She pointed to Draco.
Krum looked at her in shock, then let a deep chuckle and took her hand into a handshake. "Hi! I'm Viktor Krum, you know Bulgarian?"
Ophelia laughed. "Only a little bit."
If their minister feigns ignorance, then maybe...
She quickly switched languages and began to speak in English to test her theory. "A have a few cousins that are Bulgarian. You might know Kalin Tanchovski? He went to Durmstrang, graduated two years ago."
His face lit up at the familiar name. "Tanchovski? He was my Quidditch captain," Krum said in English.
"Really? What a small world," Ophelia joked in Bulgarian. It wasn't a coincidence that she knew Krum's friendship and student/mentor relationship with her cousin. Years ago in passing, Kalin would rave about a talented Seeker that he had on his Quidditch team. Krum was supposedly gifted both on and off the pitch.
So Kalin was right.
She lowered her voice, in English once again, "And from what I have heard, you will be coming to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament in the fall."
He was shocked yet again, but he smiled nonetheless. "You are very interesting, Warrington. I look forward to seeing you again."
"And I will look forward to our future meeting. It was nice meeting you, Krum," she turned to go, then stopped. "I don't know if you noticed, but we stopped speaking Bulgarian a while ago. Dobre e da znaete, che mozhete da govorite angliĭski," Ophelia smiled.
Krum's eyes widened. "A very interesting person indeed. You may call me Viktor."
"Ophelia." She smiled. "If that's all, Viktor, then–"
"Izchakaĭte." He took a step closer and whispered, "Do you know who she is?" He nodded to a bushy-haired girl sitting in the second row. Ophelia filed the new information for later.
"Hermione Granger, she's going to be a fourth-year at Hogwarts and a brilliant witch. I hate to admit it but she's even smarter than I am. Well, maybe she's more book-smart than I am. I'm more partial to Charms and Potions myself, but she'd probably love to talk about Transfiguration theories with you."
"How do you know I favor Transfiguration?" Viktor asked with surprise.
She raised an eyebrow. "I know about a lot of things about a lot of people."
"I would hate to be your enemy," Viktor added.
"That's one of the nicest compliments anyone has ever given me," said Ophelia.
Viktor smiled. "Until we meet again."
Ophelia nodded in acknowledgment then returned to her seat. She sighed with contentment. "That was fun!"
"You're insane," Draco blurted.
Ophelia grinned. "And I just made a new friend."
"You pulled out the Bulgarian, didn't you?" said Cassius.
"Yep."
"And you mentioned Kalin?" Cassius continued.
"Naturally."
Cassius ruffled his sister's hair, "Nice one, Lia."
She flatted down her hair. "It's too easy! Besides, he actually seems cool. Definitely more to him than the Quidditch persona he puts on."
Draco sighed. "I'm not even going to ask." But he gave Lia a pointed look so they would continue the conversation at a later time.
Cassius reached over and lightly punched Draco on the arm. "Not everyone can be as sociable as Ophy, Draco. And I believe that someone owes us some money?"
"I was hoping you guys would forget." Draco dug into his pocket for his money pouch and retrieved 50 Galleons, 25 for each sibling.
"You've known us for ten years and you still haven't learned a single thing." Ophelia shook her head while taking the money from him.
Lucius cleared his throat, drawing the attention of Draco, Cassius, and Ophelia. "Come along now. It's time to head back."
The three of them complied, leaving the Top Box with their families. However, they knew that the night was only just beginning.
After they left the Quidditch pitch, the Warrington's and the Malfoy's gathered inside their tent. Ophelia, Draco, and Cassius were quietly sitting around a table, three cups filled with half-drunk tea in front of them.
Lucius looked at his pocket watch, almost two in the morning. "It's time," Lucius announced.
Narcissa bid farewell to Lucius, kissing her husband on the cheek. She faced her son. "Be careful, darling." Narcissa squeezed Draco's shoulder in comfort. Narcissa gave Ophelia and Cassius a gentle smile, then apparated.
Ophelia and Cassius's parents spoke quietly for a few seconds. They turned to their children. "You can still leave with your mother," Nicholas informed them.
"You know we can't," Ophelia said.
Nicholas nodded. They would never leave Draco alone if they had the choice.
"Take care of each other, okay?" Amara asserted.
"Always," responded Cassius.
Satisfied with his answer, Amara gave her husband and children one last worried look, then apparated to Malfoy Manor to join Narcissa.
"You don't have to do this, Lucius," Nicholas stated. "It's not too late."
Lucius shifted his eyes to his left arm, the present company knew the mark that lay underneath his sleeve. "It will forever be too late."
A defeated and slightly sympathetic look was cast on Nicholas's face. He gave his friend a reluctant smile, then left for the Ministry section of the campsite. Nicholas would help the Ministry when the time came.
Lucius acknowledged the three remaining occupants. "You should head for shelter, I cannot control what the others may do." A somber tone to his usually arrogant voice.
The three of them stood to leave. Draco eyed his father one last time, then they left.
They hurriedly walked in silence, heading deep into the woods for cover. The cheerful atmosphere was sickening to Ophelia. She wished she could scream, inform everyone of the dangers that lay ahead. But how could she explain the dangers without exposing her best friend? She let the thoughts go and continued on her way.
Once they arrived, they settled in; Ophelia took a seat, her back resting against a tree trunk. Her brother stood beside her, but her best friend was pacing back and forth. "I still can't believe they're actually doing this, " Draco said abruptly.
Cassius stared at a spot on the ground, then raised his head to speak. "He chose his side nearly twenty years ago, Draco. That mark branded on his arm will always represent his ideology. After knowing our father for decades, he still hasn't changed his mind. Merlin, the only thing that will probably change Lucius Malfoy's opinion is if his son or wife dies at the hand of Voldemort himself. He may not want to serve his master now, but he truly and irrevocably believes in pureblood supremacy. And what other way to make a statement than to do it at an international event with all of the Wizarding World to see."
"And that's what doesn't make sense! The Dark Lord is supposed to be dead, Potter defeated him or whatever," said Draco.
Ophelia exhaled, he had been fixated on this topic the entire summer because he overheard the Death Eaters plan to attack the World Cup.
"Something must've kept him alive. Why else would weird shit happen every year since we started at Hogwarts? It was normal when Cas started school! A professor died, students were petrified, then the Chamber of Secrets turned out to be real and was opened? And to top it all off, a man broke out of bloody Azkaban and tried to break into the school for all of last year. That shouldn't be normal. It may be a coincidence, but I think it all started when Potter returned to the wizarding world," she pointed out.
Draco and Cassius contemplated Ophelia's analysis. It was undeniable that there was a strange connection between Potter and Lord Voldemort. The stakes rose every year, and it was as if all the events were alluding to something tremendous.
But their thoughts were interrupted, the singing had stopped. Screams came from the campsite beyond the woods. Slowly, the dark sound became louder while the sky became brighter. Through the trees, the bright glow of fire illuminated the night. Then a burst of strong green light emerged; the Dark Mark hung overhead. It was a beautifully morbid version of the aurora borealis, shades of orange and green twisting in the air as if it was intended to celebrate the Irish win.
A harsh silence washed over the three of them, the magnitude of the situation revealed. "I just–" Draco sighed, unable to collect his thoughts. "The two of you are lucky that your parents don't believe in this bullshit."
"Most of the continent abandoned pureblood ideology after Grindelwald and the Global Wizarding War. Then there's Wizarding Asia. It's always been different from Wizarding Britain–pureblood ideology was never as important there as it is here. So when dad's father met Obaachan Annaisha, he changed his ways because of her. It's a complete stroke of luck that the Warrington's are still a pureblood family," Cassius deliberated.
"Not to mention that even after the International Statute of Secrecy was established, there is still residual belief in magic and the supernatural in some discreet ways in Asia. That's one of the reasons why consumption of Muggle products is so normalised and why we're so open-minded–we don't have that much resentment towards Muggles. But it also might be because we're outliers." Ophelia nudged Cassius in the leg.
Draco reflected on this new information. He couldn't help but look at her. She was one of the leading reasons for his change of heart in recent years. She and Cassius influenced him in such a way that Draco wanted to learn a new way of perceiving the world, different from the one he was raised to believe in.
The sound of shuffling came from behind them. They heard a yelp of pain.
"What happened?" said a familiar voice. "Ron, where are you? Oh, this is stupid–Lumos!"
Ophelia, Cassius, and Draco turned their heads and watched the commotion.
A wand lit up the shadowy forest and directed its narrow beam across the path. Weasley was lying sprawled on the ground.
"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.
"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," Draco said with a drawling voice, trying to distract himself from his distressing thoughts. He relished at the familiar interaction with Potter and company, something that he could control.
Potter, Weasley, and Granger whirled sharply. They were met with the sight of Draco and Cassius standing, wands drawn and looking somewhat relaxed.
Ophelia stood up, brushing the skirt of her dress. As she did that, she discreetly released her wand from its holster strapped around her thigh, the wand dropping into her right hand.
"What the hell are you doing here?" sneered Weasley, directing his disdain mostly towards Draco.
Draco continued, "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"
He nodded at Granger, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Granger questioned defiantly.
"Granger, they're after Muggles," Draco's voice was dripping with sarcasm.
"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.
Ophelia internally groaned. She greatly disliked when people jumped to conclusions or couldn't tell sarcasm for the life of them. It also didn't help that whatever came from Draco's mouth would never sound good to the Gryffindors, even when there was a hint of concern for their safety to an extent. "He didn't mean it like that, Potter. They're after Muggles, yes. But if they can't find them, who do you think they'll be after next? Besides, it's more like you should hide because you defeated their God–sorry Lord–and all of the people you care about are in danger because they're associated with you," Ophelia suggested.
Potter furrowed his eyebrows, confused as to why she would stick up for someone like Draco.
"If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are," said Draco, grinning spitefully to Potter and his friends.
But then Draco realized what he said. Ophelia and Cassius winced at the term that he slipped out, Draco's old habits died slowly and painfully.
"You son of a bitch! Watch your mouth!" shouted Weasley. Everybody present knew that 'Mudblood' was the utmost offensive term for someone with Muggle parentage.
Draco flared with anger. He didn't care as much when he was offended, but the insinuation that his mother was a bitch riled him up.
"Language, Weasley," Cassius said in a lighthearted tone, trying to diffuse the tension. Ophelia grasped Draco's hand, keeping him from making a move and he calmed at her touch.
"Ha! Always Warrington's lapdog," Weasley snapped, looking at Ophelia and Draco.
Cassius took a few steps toward Weasley, towering above the lanky ginger, wand at the ready.
"You better watch your mouth, Weasley," Ophelia said darkly, raising her own wand.
"Never mind, Ron," said Granger quickly, seizing Weasley's arm and pulling him away from Cassius.
There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard. Several people nearby screamed.
"Scare easily, don't they? I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to, trying to rescue the Muggles?" Draco said lazily.
"For fucks sake, Malfoy," Ophelia murmured.
The blond knew he should stop egging the Gryffindors, but they always were able to coax the asshole out of him.
"Where're your parents?" said Potter, his temper rising. Not only because of Draco's words but because of the intertwined hands of Draco and Ophelia. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"
Draco turned his face to Potter, smiling. "Well. If they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"
"Oh come on," Granger said with a disgusted look at Draco. "Let's go and find the others."
"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy.
"Come on," Granger repeated, and she pulled Potter and Weasley up the path again.
"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" Weasley's voice trailed.
As soon as they were out of reach, Draco released Ophelia's hand, then punched the tree trunk next to him. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the tree.
"Bloody hell, Draco! You really have no remorse when it comes to them do you?" Cassius was aware of the notorious reputation Draco had at Hogwarts. He barely saw this side of Draco, but Ophelia had told him many stories about the things Draco had said and done to the Gryffindors.
"On the bright side, it's not the worst thing he's said to them?" Ophelia added bleakly.
Draco opened an eye and directed a somewhat grateful face to her.
Suddenly, a huddle of teenagers in pajamas walked by, loudly arguing.
When they saw Ophelia, Draco, and Cassius, a girl with thick curly hair turned and said quickly, "Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue–"
"Désolé, on connait pas Madame Maxime," Cassius informed the girl.
"Cassius?" a voice came from the back of the group.
Manon and Gabriel Baudalaire stepped forward, greeting their old friend.
"We didn't think we would see you until–" Gabriel started, but Ophelia interrupted him.
"Until next summer!" she finished for her French friend, sending him a knowing look. Ophelia didn't want Cassius to find out about the Triwizard Tournament yet.
"AH! D'accord, l'été prochain," Manon agreed, catching on to Ophelia's intentions.
Ophelia, Cassius, and Draco reassured the Beauxbatons students that everything would be under control, and Madame Maxime would most likely find them eventually. The students calmed down and stayed with the three Hogwarts students until sunrise.
Dobre e da znaete, che mozhete da govorite angliĭski: It's good to know that you can speak English.
Izchakaĭte: Wait
Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue-: Where is Madame Maxime? We're lost-
Désolé, on connait pas Madame Maxime: Sorry, we don't know Madame Maxime
AH! D'accord, l'été prochain: AH! Of course, next summer
Annaisha: Cassius and Ophelia's Japanese grandmother on their father's side. Her name means a helpful guide to others
A/N: The obligatory quidditch world cup. I was on the fence about writing the game and skipping right to the events after the cup, but I couldn't help but write Draco and Ophelia moments, as well as Draco/Cassius banter!
Some more incite to what's going on in Draco's mind. It's a constant struggle trying to find the balance of canon Draco and the direction I want him to go.
Am I guilty of using google translate for Bulgarian? Yes. Please correct me if I'm wrong!
Contains content from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
- Chapter 8: The Quidditch World Cup
- Chapter 9: The Dark Mark