Chapter 14: Beauxbatons and Durmstrang
As it transpired, Hermione's prediction about the Blast-Ended Skrewts was proved wrong on both counts. By mid-October Hagrid had yet to discover what they ate, and they hadn't grown to six feet long; instead, they were nearly ten, extremely violent, and objectively terrifying. Despite this, Hagrid rounded off an already miserable Friday by proposing, with the air of giving them a spectacular gift, that they spend alternate evenings down at his hut observing them and making notes on their behavior. It took everything Hermione had not to participate in the anguished groan that traveled through the class at this announcement; even Harry and Ron, who normally showed far more grit than anyone else in Hagrid's lessons, immediately began whispering to one another with very strained looks on their faces. Behind her, Draco and Theo were showing all the deference of a pair of eight-year-olds on a long car ride.
"I'd sooner kill myself," said Theo flatly.
"Lucky for you, I think they're one and the same," Draco muttered, eyeing the two-foot sting on the back of the nearest creature.
"Oh, stop it," Hermione tried to snap, but it came out as a feeble sort of sigh instead. The bell rang then and the class began its usual stampede back up the grounds toward the castle, spouting a torrent of complaints the moment they left Hagrid's earshot.
"I officially hate this year," Theo declared, with far more authority, in Hermione's opinion, than the statement warranted. Draco laughed.
"It's October."
"I don't see what that has to do with anything." Draco gave Hermione a sly grin and draped his arm over her shoulders, drawing her close to him.
"I just mean that leaves plenty of time to take up smoking and start drawing pictures of skulls." Theo raised an eyebrow.
"Now, there's a thought." He paused. "I can draw really good skulls."
"For heaven's sake, don't take up smoking," groaned Hermione, elbowing Draco sharply in the ribs.
"Who's taking up smoking?" said Ginny's voice, as she appeared on Theo's other side.
"No one," snapped Hermione.
"And why not, exactly?" Hermione studied Theo's face for a sign as to whether he was serious or joking, and, as usual, found nothing. She opened her mouth to say as much, but Ginny interrupted.
"Well, you don't have the right look for it," she said, as though this settled the matter. "You're too…" she gestured vaguely at Theo, who gasped as though he'd never been more offended in his life. Ginny waved this away. "Draco, on the other hand…" Draco snorted.
"No, thanks."
"What d'you mean, I don't have the right look?!" Theo demanded, as they reached the Entrance Hall and found their way blocked by an enormous crowd, all clearly reading the same large sign at the foot of the marble staircase.
"Oh, you've all read it, now move," muttered Ginny. When this unsurprisingly yielded no results, she set down her bag with a thud. "Right, give me a boost." Draco and Theo shared a look, shrugged slightly, and laced their fingers together, supporting Ginny as she stepped onto their hands.
"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at six o'clock on Friday, the 30th of October," she read aloud. "Lessons will end a half-hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast."
"Only a week away!" cried an excited voice behind them, and Ernie McMillan jostled his way past, knocking Ginny unceremoniously back to the floor in the process.
"Wonder if Cedric knows?" said Hannah Abbott, hurrying to keep up.
"We'll have to go and tell him," said Ernie importantly, and Draco stuck his finger down his throat behind Ernie's back. Ginny looked scandalized.
"That idiot, Hogwarts Champion?" Hermione rolled her eyes.
"You just don't like him because of Quidditch, that doesn't make him an idiot."
"And you only like him because he's handsome," Ginny retorted, but she was grinning.
"I didn't say I liked him, and I don't like people just because they're handsome!" snapped Hermione, leading the way through the crowd and into the Great Hall.
"Why d'you like me, then?" asked Theo with a smirk, as they settled down at the end of the Gryffindor table. Hermione fixed him with the blankest expression she could summon.
"For your lovely personality, Theo," she said flatly. Draco and Ginny burst out laughing, and Theo shook his head slightly.
"You were so sweet when I met you." She smirked.
"Likewise."
"Incidentally," Ginny cut in, reaching across Theo for a pitcher of water, "you want to be careful."
"As do you," snapped Theo, smacking her hand away and holding the pitcher just out of her reach. Ginny made an indignant sound in her throat, and Draco turned to Hermione and gave her a mischievous grin.
"You do only like me because I'm handsome, don't you?" She laughed.
"Oh, yes," she said seriously. "I've been waiting for the right time to tell you." Draco nodded.
"Perfect." He glanced at Theo and Ginny, who were quite occupied with what appeared to be a fierce debate on a highly trivial topic, then leaned in so that only she could hear. "I only like you because you're an excellent kisser." She felt her face grow hot at once, and quickly adopted what she hoped was a coy expression.
"How d'you know that? You've got nothing to compare it to." Draco cast another quick glance around them, then kissed her cheek lightly, but slowly, carefully, as if reluctant to pull away.
"I don't need to compare you to anyone," he whispered. "I already think you're perfect." She shivered slightly, and returned his kiss.
"We'll discuss this after dinner," she breathed, and relished the hungry glint in his eyes as she pulled away. Across the table, Ginny made an enormous show of clearing her throat.
"Excuse me," she said loudly. "Some of us are trying to enjoy our meal." Draco quickly became very interested in something in the vague direction of the Hufflepuff table; Hermione suspected he didn't realize a hint of a smirk had made its way onto his face, and she grinned and shook her head. Theo, meanwhile, was staring at Ginny as if she bore sole responsibility for every ill that existed in the universe.
"You're not enjoying your meal," he said incredulously. "You're ruining my evening and possibly my life."
"It's not my fault," Ginny countered. "I'm just telling you because I thought you should know." Hermione frowned.
"Know what?" she asked. Theo groaned, head sinking into his hands. Ginny gave him a disdainful look before turning to Hermione.
"I thought he should know," she said pointedly, "that I had a very interesting Charms lesson this afternoon." Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?" Ginny nodded.
"See, Marianne Clarke and Sophie Moran were discussing-"
"Who are Marianne Clarke and Sophie Moran?" Hermione interjected.
"That's what I said," muttered Theo, and Ginny raised an eyebrow.
"They're Ravenclaws in my year, but that's not really important to the story," she said impatiently.
"All right, go on."
"Or don't," Theo broke in. Ginny raised a casual hand and shoved his hair into his eyes before turning back to Hermione.
"Right. Marianne Clarke and Sophie Moran were having a riveting debate as to the best-looking boy in the year." Hermione frowned.
"In Charms class?" Ginny blinked.
"Of course," she said snidely. "Where do you discuss good-looking boys?" Hermione frowned.
"I don't."
"Well, Marianne Clarke and Sophie Moran were doing it in Charms class, which is as good a place as any," Ginny pressed on. "Only, there aren't really that many in our year, so they had to go to fourth year." Theo made a strangled sound in his throat; beginning to sense where this was going, Hermione laughed.
"Naturally."
"And at this point, Natalie Blackburn joined in."
"Who's Natalie Blackburn?" asked Hermione.
"That's what I said," Theo repeated dully. Ginny gave an exasperated sigh.
"Honestly, Hermione, she's in Gryffindor, but again, it doesn't matter." She paused. "Actually, Natalie does matter, because she's the one who brought him up first." She gestured to Theo, who made a very rude hand gesture in her direction without raising his head. "Asked me whether he's a good kisser." Hermione choked; beside her, so did Draco, who'd been so quiet during this exchange that she'd nearly forgotten he was there. Theo was trying to look cooly disapproving, but Hermione could tell he was profoundly uncomfortable.
"I said I wouldn't know," Ginny went on, with a light shrug. "But if I'd been thinking clearly I would've just said yes, because now half the girls in my year have got a bet to see who can get him to kiss her." Hermione frowned.
"Well, that's disgusting."
"That's what I said!" snapped Theo. Ginny shrugged.
"Well, I told them that," she said flatly. "And then there was a whole load of nonsense, but now if he doesn't kiss any of them by the end of the month they all have to give me five galleons."
"Which you'll deeply admire for five minutes on your way to give them directly to me," said Theo pointedly. Ginny scoffed.
"Fat chance of that. Besides, you haven't got through the month alive yet."
The following week flew by at breakneck speed, and with each passing day the rumors flooding the castle grew more and more ridiculous. It began simply enough, with guesses as to how the champions were chosen ranging from a painful and humiliating contest to simply being appointed by the Giant Squid. Fred and George Weasley spent their evenings huddled in the corner of the Gryffindor common room, heads together, uncharacteristically quiet-which Hermione found deeply strange and vaguely unsettling until she realized they were trying to work out how to cheat their way into the Triwizard Tournament with an aging potion; to Hermione's extreme annoyance, Harry and Ron considered this noble and courageous in the highest order, and took to following the twins around peppering them with questions as the week wore on.
In stark contrast with the students, the staff seemed nearly as tense as they'd done amid the early rumors of the Chamber of Secrets two years ago. Filch seemed to be everywhere at once, scrubbing a portrait on the second floor one second only to pop up on the seventh and terrify first-years who forgot to wipe their shoes the next. Professor McGonagall, already quite strict, was positively ferocious in lessons and took to snapping at them to sit up straight or tuck in their shirts. Even the Quidditch Captains were on edge; Harry and Ginny scarcely returned before nine o'clock in the evenings, often muddy and looking like shells of their usual selves. Draco, it seemed, was even worse off. To hear him tell it, the Slytherin team was playing as though they'd never seen a broomstick before, let alone won a game of Quidditch. He frequently returned with odd cuts and bruises from his teammates' spastic techniques, far too exhausted to be much help with their monstrous pile of homework.
The rumors reached their peak Thursday evening, when Ginny and Colin Creevey arrived from their Herbology lesson bickering because Luna Lovegood had been telling anyone who would listen that Beauxbatons students traveled exclusively by Crumple-Horned Snorkback. Just what a Crumple-Horned Snorkback was was the subject of much debate among the third years, but Hermione strongly suspected it wasn't a mystery worth solving and took this as her cue to retire to the library for the evening. She'd scarcely begun working, however, when Theo appeared as if out of thin air and threw himself down next to her; she jumped out of her skin and nearly dropped her books in the process.
"My god," she snapped, willing her heartbeat to slow down. Theo laughed.
"Hello to you, too."
"You're interrupting my Potions homework," Hermione informed him, in the loftiest tone she could manage.
"Yes, that was the idea," sighed Theo. "See, I'm hopeless at Potions." Hermione allowed a hint of a grin.
"I know," she said wryly. "I pay attention in lessons."
"Well, that was unnecessary," Theo told her. "Anyway, normally I'd write nonsense on a bit of parchment until Draco noticed and corrected me, but lately he's in a very unhelpful mood when he comes in from Quidditch." He paused to give her a smirk; she rolled her eyes, but felt a slight smile flit across her face of its own accord; he did have a point, after all. "So, I thought you'd do nicely as a replacement." Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Why don't you ask your friends to help?" Theo looked at her as if she'd gone mad.
"You are my friend. I'd care if you died, at least." He paused. "I'm not sure I could promise, like, a lot of tears or anything. But I'd be quite sad, and I'd miss you." She laughed, slightly incredulous.
"Oh, that's nice."
"Besides, I think you're a bit better at Potions than Draco is."
"Flattery will get you nowhere." Theo held her gaze for a few seconds, then grinned. A shock of warmth ran through her wholly uninvited, and Hermione found herself forced, against her will, to consider that Ginny's classmates had a point. Quite apart from that, there was an uncharacteristic urgency in his eyes that made her suspect he wasn't just there to discuss their homework.
"Fine," she snapped, wrenching her gaze away. "But I'm not doing it for you, because you've got to learn. And because…" she sighed. "Well, I'm not sure I've done this bit right." Theo studied her work, and frowned.
"Why've you listed all the ingredients to the poison?" he asked. "I mean, we're meant to be creating antidotes, aren't we?"
"Well, yes," said Hermione impatiently. "But d'you remember what Snape said about Golpalott's Third Law?" Theo sighed.
"I try not to listen to Snape. He's depressing." Hermione sighed.
"Golpalott's Third Law states that the antidote to a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes to each of its separate components," she recited. "So you've got to know what's in your poison before mixing an antidote." Theo studied her for a moment.
"What are his first and second laws?"
"What?"
"Well, you can't have a third law without a first and a second, can you?" said Theo impatiently. "Unless his tenth law is that numerical order doesn't matter when you're making a law."
"I don't know what his first and second laws are," snapped Hermione. Theo shrugged and turned his attention back to the parchment.
"If it's more than the antidotes to each of its separate components…" he lightly traced a finger down her list, then paused. When he raised his head, to Hermione's utter surprise, he looked eager, almost sweet.
"Monkshood and aconite are the same plant." She frowned.
"Yes, I know. What-"
"Well, the leaves are poisonous and the flowers aren't-or is that backwards?" In spite of herself, Hermione stifled a laugh.
"No, you're right," she told him. Turning her attention back to her work, she immediately spotted her mistake. "Of course...the flowers aren't the antidote to the leaves, either. I'm thinking of arnica, which means…" she crossed out a few lines and replaced them. "I still don't think rosemary is right," she muttered. "I mean, for the additional ingredient." Theo considered for a moment.
"What about peppermint?" She frowned.
"Peppermint?"
"Yeah, see-" he pulled her parchment closer, once again gently tracing her list. "You've already got powdered moonstone, porcupine quills, unicorn horns...it's everything you need for a Draught of Peace, except Syrup of Hellebore, which makes sense because it's a poison." She frowned.
"Well-yes, but what does that have to do with peppermint?" Theo shrugged.
"Draco puts peppermint in his Draught of Peace. Says it works against-"
"Against the tendency to put the drinker to sleep if you haven't brewed it properly," Hermione interjected, inexplicably thrilled. "That's brilliant!"
Theo, it transpired, wasn't bad at Potions; he was bad at listening to Snape. Hermione repeated bits of their lessons as often as she did with Harry and Ron, but unlike Harry and Ron, he listened to Hermione and applied what she said to his own work. He also evidently listened to Draco, which, in addition to the peppermint solution, saved them an enormous mistake (and hours of work) on their last problem.
"All right," he said flatly, shoving aside his finished homework with a flourish. "If you die, I promise I'll cry at your funeral. At least during the bit where everyone gets up and makes their annoying little speeches." Hermione scoffed.
"And referring to them as 'annoying little speeches' won't ruin the effect at all." He waved this away, then gave her a long, oddly thoughtful look.
"Er-can I ask you something?" He paused. "Something other than can I ask you something, obviously." She could tell they'd arrived at his real reason for interrupting her homework. She shrugged.
"'Course." Theo studied her for a bit, as if worried she'd bite him, then shook his head slightly.
"What happened last year?" he asked. "With Draco, I mean." She frowned, utterly taken aback.
"I-I'm not sure I know what you mean," she stammered. Theo bit his lip. He looked different somehow, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
"I mean...right, I know you were...well. You know. Before everyone found out. Is that right?" He was still studying her intently, and with a jolt, she realized what was different. She hadn't paid Theo much attention when they were younger, but looking back, he'd been full of contradictions; quiet but not shy, buried in the contents of his own head but acutely observant of the world around him, curious to the point of insensitivity but inexplicably sweet and disarming. Somewhere in the whirlwind of the last three years, these qualities had faded in favor of sharp wit and an increasingly ever-present smirk, but now she had the impression of looking back through time at the eleven-year-old boy who'd explained to her that there was a sizable section of the Wizarding World who didn't think she deserved to be a part of it, and somehow made her feel more like a part of it than ever in the process. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded.
"Er...why didn't you tell anyone?"
"Didn't...I mean, have you spoken to Draco about this?" Theo drew back as if she'd smacked him, but righted himself so quickly she wondered whether she'd imagined it.
"I...don't think that would be a good idea." He paused, glancing up at the ceiling. "Besides, er...well, I don't think he'd-" he broke off abruptly. "It's because you didn't want to," he went on, much more quickly. "Isn't that right?" Evidently her startled bafflement showed on her face, for he glanced down at the floor, looking, for the first time, slightly chastened.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "Mum says she thought my bluntness was cute when I was younger. And that she regrets that now." Hermione laughed.
"I can't imagine why." She paused and studied his face for signs of mockery or deceit; finding none, she sighed slightly. He'd been honest with her that day in first year, hadn't he? "I didn't mean for it to be that way," she said finally. Unable to fully meet his eyes, she glanced out the window instead. "I really didn't mean to hurt him, even though...well, I know I did." Theo nodded, eyes now clouded in thought.
"That isn't exactly hard to do." Hermione frowned.
"I like that about him," she said softly. Theo considered this for a moment, then shook his head slightly.
"Anyway." Hermione sighed.
"Anyway…" She hadn't tried to put it into words, that inexplicable panic that had gripped her the moment she kissed him for the first time-and now, she wasn't sure she could. "I don't care what anyone else thinks," she said instead, and raised her eyes to meet Theo's as if to prove her point. "Not Harry and Ron, not you, not anyone else in school. But that doesn't mean…"
"...that you want everyone watching," Theo nearly whispered. "That you'll enjoy hearing whatever they have to say." Hermione froze. The urgency in his eyes was stronger now-or perhaps she could just see it better when it wasn't hidden behind a smirk. Either way, she had the strong impression he was trying to tell her something, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it.
"Er...but...it wasn't really worth it," she went on slowly. "Draco, he...I'm sure he thought I was ashamed of him." She could scarcely manage above a whisper. "I felt terrible for letting him believe that. Still do." She paused. "And...d'you know, something I've learned going around with Harry and Ron-don't," she interjected, for Theo suddenly looked as if Christmas had come early, "something I've learned is that...whatever you think people are going to say, you're probably right. But two days later, someone will get into a fight or someone will lock Filch's cat in the girl's bathroom again, or…"
"You're really not good at inventing scandals," Theo interjected quietly, with a grin. She rolled her eyes, studied him for another moment, and decided she'd answered quite enough questions.
"Theo, are you...I mean, is there something you'd like to tell me?" The grin vanished from his face.
"No," he said at once. "There isn't." He looked up at the ceiling for what felt like a year, and when he met her eyes again, he looked more vulnerable than she'd have thought him capable. "If there were…" he began cautiously, then trailed off, scanning her face as if determined to see the contents of her mind through her skull. She wanted desperately to grin, but knew that was the worst possible thing she could do.
"If there were," she said instead, "I wouldn't tell anyone. That includes Draco." He gave her a hint of a smile and half a nod.
"Right."
"You're not, by the way," she called after him, as he stashed his now-finished Potions essay and turned to leave. He paused and gave her a quizzical look.
"Not what?"
"You're not rubbish at Potions." He grinned.
"And you're not better than Draco," he told her with a wink, and swept from the library. Hermione laughed, shook her head, and checked her watch. A quarter past eight. Draco would be here any minute, bringing with him, as Theo put it, his unhelpful mood. What Theo didn't know, of course, was that this mood was only unhelpful if one's goal was to finish homework, and would lift at once with a few well-placed kisses.
Draco had never been so sure, so early in the season, that Slytherin had no chance at the Quidditch cup. Flint was working them nearly twice as hard as usual to get the team up to snuff, but this only made them exhausted and grumpy, which made them play worse, which made them more exhausted and grumpy. Practices ran later and later as the last week of October wore on, finally reaching ten o'clock before Flint sent them inside on Thursday evening. The unexpected upside of this, as Draco had suspected, was Ruby Adler. She alone maintained proper form and cutthroat technique no matter how late Flint kept them, and Draco thoroughly enjoyed the looks on his older teammates' faces as she flew circles around them day after day. Quite apart from that, she seemed to take a liking to Draco-talking with him before and after practice, asking his opinion when she attempted a new and difficult maneuver, helping him wrestle Bludgers into the ball crate when their useless Beaters left them out-and it wasn't until nearly the end of the week that he realized it was because she looked up to him. He wasn't the youngest on the team any longer, and though he felt a bit silly, the rush of pride and excitement at this fact was almost enough to make up for the rest of the dismal week.
The other upside, Draco soon discovered, had nothing to do with Quidditch. He'd already known Hermione didn't exactly mind when he looked a mess-it was half the reason he never allowed his hair to lie flat, after all-but she seemed to relish the haphazard way his Quidditch robes hung about him, the odd bruises and scrapes he never seemed to notice until she traced them with her finger, sending shivers of electricity straight to his core. The smell of his sweat and the outside air. It was difficult to be too bothered about the evening's obscene Quidditch practice when his girlfriend did things to him that made him forget what planet he was on, let alone how he'd spent the rest of his evening.
On Thursday night, she'd let him complain about practice, but he could tell she wasn't listening. That was all right, though; she was playing with his hair, which made him sleepy, and letting her hands travel down his neck and slip experimentally under the collar of his robes, which woke him up again. Her finger against his collarbone sent an unexpected jab of pain through his left arm, and he winced.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Must've got hit by a Bludger or something." She paused, then gently moved his clothes aside and placed a feather-light kiss on a bruise he hadn't known he had.
On Friday morning, this wasn't the only bruise around his neck. Her bites had grown far less timid since the train ride to school, and though he was at a loss to explain why, he craved them insatiably. If she could bite straight through his neck until there was nothing left, he wasn't entirely sure he'd stop her. She'd stopped asking whether she was hurting him, and if he were honest, this was a relief; he'd die of shame if he had to answer yes, but I don't want you to stop.
On Thursday night, she'd let him slip his hands under her sweater, and her skin was so warm and soft that the sensation made his heart pound and his hands tingle even hours later.
"Why do you always ask?" she'd whispered, as they shared a last kiss behind a suit of armor outside Gryffindor Tower. "Before you touch me, I mean."
Because I can't believe you'd let me hadn't quite seemed to fit the tone of the moment.
"Because it's up to you who touches you and where," he'd said instead.
"You're sweet." She'd kissed him. "I always want you to touch me," she'd breathed, as she pulled away. "Anywhere you like."
He hadn't slept much on Thursday night.
Nobody was very attentive in lessons on Friday, and by and large, teachers took the path of least resistance and simply allowed them to talk amongst themselves. Only Snape demanded quiet, which he was granted despite being Gryffindor and Slytherin's last lesson before the guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived that evening. When the bell dismissed them, they deposited their bags in their dormitories and hurried back into the Entrance Hall, where Snape greeted the Slytherins with his usual negative assessment of their appearance and behavior.
"Miss Greengrass, straighten your hat," he snarled. "Zabini, is Mr. Malfoy responsible for the state of your necktie?" Blaise looked utterly taken aback.
"Er-no, sir."
"Very well. Malfoy, tie it properly." His eyes narrowed as he scanned Theo from head to toe, but finding nothing to criticize, he moved on to the fifth years behind them. Blaise glared at Draco.
"If you touch my neck, I'll kill you." Draco laughed.
"Just as well. I don't know how to fix a tie on someone else."
When the heads of Houses were satisfied, they filed down the steps and out onto the grounds in front of the castle. Dusk was gathering about them, and a sliver of a moon rose over the Forbidden Forest. Pansy shivered and drew her cloak around her as she gazed skyward.
"How d'you reckon they're really coming?" she asked. "The train?"
"Doubt it," said Theo at once.
"Broomsticks?" Blaise suggested.
"Not from that far away, and not with that many of them," Draco told him.
"Maybe you're allowed to Apparate before you're seventeen, where they're from?" said Daphne curiously.
"You can't Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds, though," Theo reminded her. Blaise opened his mouth to speak, but at the head of the crowd, Dumbledore was pointing skyward.
"Ah! Unless I am much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
Here followed a chorus of where? There! from various places in the crowd. Something quite large was, indeed, hurtling through the sky toward the castle, impossible to miss but likewise impossible to identify.
"It's a dragon!" cried a first-year from the front row.
"Don't be stupid!" shrieked another. "It's a flying horse!"
As it happened, it was twelve flying horses; twelve magnificent palominos, each the size of an elephant and all pulling a blue carriage the size of a large house. The first few rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled lower, finally landing with an almighty crash that made a few people jump. The carriage door slid open and a boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, fiddled with something near the ground for a bit, and then unfolded a set of magnificent golden steps. He sprang back, bowing respectfully as the largest woman Draco had seen in his life emerged from the carriage door.
"Christ," muttered Blaise. Around them, quite a few people gasped or similarly muttered under their breath. Dumbledore stepped forward and inclined his head respectfully as she walked toward him.
"My dear Madame Maxime," he said gallantly. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Dumbly-door," returned the enormous woman, with a curtsy. "I 'ope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you."
"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, gesturing carelessly behind her. Draco followed her enormous hand and saw, for the first time, around a dozen witches and wizards milling around behind Madame Maxime, staring apprehensively up at the castle and shivering slightly in the evening chill.
"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" asked Madame Maxime.
"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him, or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"
"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime, with a glance over her shoulder at her students. "But ze 'orses-"
"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," Dumbledore told her, bowing slightly, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other...charges." Pansy let out a faint groan, as the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow Madame Maxime and her students to pass into the castle.
"Maybe the Skrewts have escaped," muttered Theo.
"Oh, don't say that," snapped Daphne. "If that lot's loose on the grounds-"
"You didn't let me finish," Theo interrupted. "Maybe they've escaped, and all killed one another." Draco frowned.
"Then...what would Hagrid be dealing with, exactly?" he asked pointedly, as the vivid image filled his mind of those horrid Skrewt creatures bleeding to death on the grounds. Theo shuddered.
"Good point. Never mind." In front of them, the muttering and pointing had begun once more, this time directed at the surface of the lake-smooth just moments ago, but now bubbling, swirling into a vast whirlpool, waves crashing over the banks, and then…
"It's a mast!" cried someone near the middle of the Gryffindor crowd.
Moments later, a ship rose magnificently out of the water, but a ship unlike any they'd laid eyes on before. It was eerie, vaguely skeletal, as if it were a resurrected wreck from somewhere on the ocean floor. Dim, misty lights shone out of its portholes, and the splash of an anchor reached the shallows, followed by a plank being lowered onto the bank. Unlike the Beauxbatons crowd, the students who emerged moments later were dressed in heavy cloaks made from a sort of shaggy, matted fur. A man of quite normal size led them up to the castle, wearing sleek, silver furs which almost perfectly matched his hair.
"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied, and the name sent a jolt down Draco's spine. Here, then, was the man whose presence at Hogwarts made Sirius fear for Harry Potter's precious life. Funny; Draco had expected a more intimidating figure. Karkaroff was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but with an overly solicitous sort of voice and a goatee which didn't entirely hide his rather weak chin. Beside Draco, Theo gave a sharp gasp.
"What is it?" asked Pansy, evidently startled, but before Theo could respond, Blaise was pointing, wide-eyed, at the boy standing just behind Karkaroff.
"It's him!" he hissed, positively quivering with excitement. "It's Krum!"
It was. And if he thought the Bulgarian Seeker drew his eye from a hundred feet away at the World Cup, it was nothing what he felt now. The night was growing steadily colder, but to Draco it suddenly seemed like the dead of summer. His friends' faces blurred in his peripheral vision and he felt oddly dizzy. The jolt had moved into his stomach now, and he didn't think it had anything to do with Karkaroff or Sirius's worries for the tournament.
"Draco. Draco!" Theo had seized the back of his cloak, and Draco realized the crowd was moving now, filing back up the steps and into the castle. Their friends drew ahead, but Theo was holding him back, face a bit paler than normal, eyes clouded with urgency.
"Draco, that's...that's him. Karkaroff? He's the man from the party. The one…" here, Theo cast a quick glance around them, and lowered his voice until it was scarcely audible. "The one with the Firewhiskey. The one with the...the tattoo."
