"E is too young! Zey are too young!" shouted Fleur, the champion from Beauxbatons.

"This is most unusual," Mr. Bagman said as he stared at Draco. "Five champions? This is unheard of!" The excitement seemed to spread over his face and it made Draco's stomach heave. How could he look so happy?

Draco began to look around the room. Fleur looked murderous, Krum simply looked stunned and unimpressed at the new development. Cedric Diggory seemed to have suffered some sort of coronary, or maybe he always looked like that; he was a Hufflepuff after all. Potter, strangely enough, seemed to mirror Draco's feelings. Draco found this to be the most disturbing.

Snape's grip on him tightened as the door opened. Draco had forgotten the professor was even in the room. The other professors filed in followed by Dumbledore. Through the open door, Draco could hear the other students. The excitement and anger, confusion, and disappointment were palpable. McGonagall closed the door before the noise had a chance to fill the room like a fog.

"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur as she walked over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zees little boys are to compete also!"

Little boys? Draco scoffed under his breath, but then caught himself as he remembered the situation he was in. Perhaps she had a point.

Madame Maxine, the giantess, seemed to grow larger in her anger as she faced Dumbledore. "What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said accusingly.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," Professor Karkaroff chimed in. Where Madam Maxine was a volcano beginning to erupt, Karkaroff was ice. His very being seemed to shoot deadly icicles at Dumbledore. "Three Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed three champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" His laugh was what reminded Draco of the Karkaroff his father had told him about. The Death Eater who managed to avoid Azkaban. Draco shivered; the man before them resembled a dementor.

"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, who was ready to combust before them, shouted. Draco was sure at any moment she would take the whole school out with one swipe of her hand. " 'Ogwarts cannot 'ave three champions. It is most unjust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his smile now frozen on his face. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Snape from behind Draco. Had his voice been louder Draco would have jumped. He knew his head of house hated Potter, in fact, that was one of the reason's Draco liked the professor, he wasn't blinded by the git. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here —"

"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore as his attention now rested on Potter. His voice once again soft, calm, serene as if he were mere seconds away from singing a lullaby to him. Potter, looking less frightened than before, made eye contact. Draco could feel hate and anger radiating behind him. No doubt Snape was about to get angrier at whatever Potter said. Draco wasn't sure whose anger was deeper, the heads of the competing schools or Snape's.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"No," said Potter. Had it been in any other situation, it would have been hilarious that at the same exact moment both Draco and Snape released identical indignant noises that clearly said they didn't believe him. Dumbledore paid them no mind, but a few eyes were drawn to them, remembering that Draco was even there.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"No," said Potter, his voice rising in what could only be desperation.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall, her voice mimicking the claws of her cat form, daring the woman to challenge Dumbledore's ability any further. "I am sure we are all agreed on that —"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime. Which Draco thought was rather bold. Draco, on reflex, shifted backward in an effort to get out of the blast zone.

"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely while Mcgonigall looked as if she had swallowed a whole lemon and craved another.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall."Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!" She shot a very angry look at Professor Snape.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said rather humbly, "but I fear we have been ignoring our other unexpected champion." Dumbledore turned to look at Draco. He did not say anything, his twinkling eyes seemed to be cataloging everything about him.

"And you, Draco? Did you put your name in The Goblet of Fire?" His voice was not quite as soft as it was with Potter. Clearly, Dumbledore was fond of Potter, more than Draco.

"Of course not, do you think I want to be here?" He looked around the room, his eyes accusing. Only the Hogwarts teachers looked like they believed him. "This sort of thing is Potter's type of enjoyment. Someone's having a laugh. This is a joke. It has to be."

"If I may, Headmaster," Snape interjected before Draco could continue. "Draco does have a point, headmaster." Draco was elated, someone was seeing reason. "Perhaps Potter-"

"I didn't put my name in!" Potter spoke over Snape.

"Or whoever put his name in," Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm, "also put in Draco's"

Dumbledore stroked his beard in contemplation.

"That still doesn't explain why they were chosen!" Karkaroff shouted. "Mr. Crouch . . . Mr. Bagman," Karkaroff began, his voice softer, "you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Mr. Bagman removed his glasses and began to wipe them with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket by way of answering. He looked to Mr. Crouch to reply.

Mr. Crouch was standing slightly removed from the group. In the dim lighting, Draco noted that Mr. Crouch did not look well. Something that was easily ignored in daylight, but when the firelight and shadows streaked his face he was almost skeletal in appearance. His voice, however, was strong as he spoke, "We must follow the rules," The other schools made their opinion on this ruling known, speaking over each other, Mr. Crouch allowed them a moment before continuing, his voice louder to regain their attention, " and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

Draco was having an out of body experience. He no longer felt connected to his body or his situation. Who in their bloody right mind would allow him to compete? Potter, he could understand as everyone always seemed to bow down to him and accept this sort of behavior, but Draco? They were mad, the lot of them.

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, in a clear attempt to do something other than breathe. His face breaking out into a sycophant smile at Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, clearly thinking everything was settled.

"I insist upon submitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. His face and voice once more turned unpleasant. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out — it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament —"

"— in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice by the door. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contracts, like Dumbledore said." Draco watched Moody enter the room. He couldn't hear any noise from the Great Hall, the other students must have been sent back to their dormitories following the commotion. Moody limped toward them. He almost looked uncomfortable with each step even though he has had the replacement appendage for years. Time must not matter in that regard, Draco supposed it would always feel unnatural. The clunking of Moody's every step echoed in the now silent room. As he got closer to the light, Draco could see that Moody looked downright gleeful, or as gleeful as someone with his face could look. "Convenient though, eh?" Moody added.

"Convenient?" replied Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody." Moody barely spared Karkoff a glance, seemingly disinterested in what he had to say, yet Draco noticed his hands folded themselves into tight fists.

"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Would you say that the same reason would explain Malfoy's presence?" Snape asked.

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts three bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime disgusted.

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, nodding at her gratefully."I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards—"

"Don't think your boy has what it takes, Karkoff?" Moody taunted him, goading him.``I wouldn't think a former dark wizard such as yourself would be thrown at the prospect of their champion going against underage boys. I would think the chance to have Potter, The Boy Who Lived, bested would be right up your alley." Draco swore he could hear Krakoff's jaw snap. His ugly teeth hitting each other like ice dumped into a glass. Krum glared at Moody, a glare that anyone else would have faltered under, but not Mad-Eye Moody. He turned sharply toward Madame Maxime now. "Don't think she has a chance? Ready to resign and not allow Miss Delacour the opportunity to win? A chance to be the first female to win in over a hundred years?" Madame Maxine stared down at him, about to snort fire with each exhale. Fleur looked between Moody and Madam Maxine offended at the insinuation.

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter and Malfoy" growled Moody, "but . . . funny thing . . . I don't hear them saying a word..."

"Why should zey complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. "Zey 'ave ze chance to compete, don't zey? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money — zis is a chance many would die for!"

"You're bloody daft!" Draco erupted. "Perhaps the only reason you don't hear complaining is that you lot are the only ones being heard." Draco glared at them. He advanced on Fluer. "For your information, you insufferable bint, I am a Malfoy. The prize money doesn't even come close to what my trust fund accrues in a year's time." Draco turned slightly and pointed at Potter. "And even though Potter's best friend seems to suffer from poverty, he clearly need not worry about money either." He finished gesturing at Potter's high quality robes continuing to glare at her. "I for one don't fancy dying to bring this place honor. I don't want to be here to begin with thank you very much." Snape attempted to regain his hold on Draco, like a dog that had broken its leash, but Draco shrugged him off before walking silently back to his former spot fuming. Draco could not believe Potter was just accepting this. That any of them were accepting this. Contract be damned!

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter and Malfoy die," said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl, his magical eye resting squarely on Karkoff. The suggestion for Potter made sense to Draco considering that seemed to be someone's intention every year...But surely there were far easier and direct ways than a long drawn out tournament.

The silence that followed Moody's statement was tense and awkward added to by the staring contest between Moody and Krakoff.

"Moody, old man . . . what a thing to say!" declared Ludo Bagman who had become more anxious over the course of the conversation.

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff sneering. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" Moody growled back. Slowly advancing toward Krakoff. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boys' names in that goblet. . . ."

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her hands in frustration.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" said Moody slowly, calculatingly. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament. . . . I'm guessing they submitted Potter and Malfoy's name under two additional schools, to make sure they were the only ones in their category. . . ."

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," Karkoff challenged, "and a very ingenious theory it is," Karkoff conceded as though taking a compliment before his tone changed to condescending and he added,"Though, of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously..." Karkoff trailed off with laughter in his voice.

"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody said, his voice more menacing. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff — as you ought to remember. . . ."

"Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly.

Moody fell silent, but with his insinuation out there and Karkaroff's face burning it was clear his worlds met their mark.

"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore gently and effectively ended the argument. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Harry and Draco have been chosen to compete in the Tournament with the others. This, therefore, they will do..."

Draco's eyes widened in horror. His father was right, Dumbledore was clearly off his rocker. He was surprised once again to see Potter expressing a similar shock. Though he was sure Potter still viewed Dumbledore as sane.

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr —" Madame Maxine attempted to reignite the fire of argument.

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it." Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime's mouth had closed, her jaw clenching and her eyes attempting to eviscerate him.

She did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Surveying the room Draco noted the expected expressions of fury as seen on Snape and Karkoff's faces. McGonagall caught his eye looking at him with extreme worry before her eyes moved to Potter. The only one looking anything other than solemn was Bagman who looked far too excited for a contest where they could very well die.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" He cheerily inquired. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"

Draco had forgotten Mr. Crouch was still present. But given the events of the evening, he could hardly fault himself in losing track of the adults in the room.

"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes . . . the first task . . ." As he moved closer and further into the light, Draco realized his earlier impression of his sickly appearance was actually doing the man a favor. He looked positively awful. Mr. Crouch looked as though his skin was becoming unable to hold him together.

Draco thought back to the Quidditch World Cup when he saw the man with his father. He had certainly not looked like this. Something was going on, but Draco could not devote any time or thought to that now.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Harry, Cedric, Fleur, Viktor, and Draco, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard . . . very important. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands-" Draco looked to Potter who he noted appeared to have accepted his fate in being in the tournament, then he looked at the others before he indignantly interrupted Mr. Crouch.

"You're not going to tell us what we are up against? I have not even agreed or accepted to be in the blasted tournament against my will, and now that it has been determined for me, that's all we get? What nonsense is this?"

"Draco, control yourself and listen-" Snape began to scold him.

"No. No. I am not doing this." Draco stated his earlier panic rising. He then turned and walked out of the room. There was no way they could really expect him to do this. Potter, fine, but Draco? He had more self-preservation than that prat.

He walked back into the Great Hall and found it not entirely deserted. Seated near the door were Theo and Blaise. They halted their conversation and quickly stood when they saw him. He did not stop or wait for them to catch up. He felt like he couldn't breathe his robes and tie choking him. He heard them silently follow him as he marched to the doors leading to the courtyard. He pushed both doors open while taking in what was possibly the deepest breath of his life. Yet, it still didn't feel like enough. It wasn't enough. But he couldn't seem to exhale to take another long drag. He wretched his robes over his head and tossed them to the side before doing the same with his tie, ripping the top two buttons of his shirt off. Once he was free he sunk to the ground.

"Mate, you need to breathe." one of his friends said before the other shouted, "Breathe!" and pounded on his back. Tears came to Draco's eyes but his lungs obeyed the command. He remained on the ground panting.

His knees began to ache. The sensation of it brought him back to himself. Time did not matter when you were numb. Now he was no longer numb. His face felt cold as well, come to think of it, all of him felt cold. His hand reached to touch his face and found his cheeks were wet and his nose was releasing a gross amount of snot.

He leaned back allowing his hands to catch him on the cobblestone as he rearranged himself. He could not bring himself to look at Theo or Blaise who sat on either side of him. He knew they were looking at him, but his eyes fixated on the sky and the gentle cloud of each breath.

"Here," Theo said, breaking the silence and handing him his robe. "Put it back on." Draco didn't reply, but nodded his head and accepted the wad of cloth. He was thankful and hoped Theo knew it, he just couldn't bring himself to open his mouth and express it. If he opened his mouth he wasn't sure what would come out of it. Would he scream? Would his words crack before tears? Or would he be unable to utter a word?

"I suppose that means they've decided to have you all participate. Bloody insane," Blaise commented. "I was wondering how Potter was going to add to his fame this year, he'd been rather quiet this year. Probably saving it all up for this."

"Figures they would let him in... I wonder how he got his name in."

"I dunno, Dumbledore probably had a special loophole just for him. Did you see the look on Weasley's face though? That may have been the best thing I have ever seen."

"Trouble in paradise for sure. I hope they have a row during Care of Magical Creatures. The oaf would probably cancel class to act as a couple's counselor." They both laughed.

He knew they were trying to pull him into the conversation, and Draco had to hand it to them in their choice of topics. When had Draco ever failed to participate in a conversation that insulted not only Potter but Weasley as well?

There was a lull…

"They all belong in St. Mungos," Draco said after a quavering exhale. His voice didn't crack though he knew tears were still leaking from his eyes. He didn't bother wiping them away as the flow was constant.

"Who do you think put your name in?" Blaise asked after a minute.

"You don't think it was me?"

"Don't be daft. Of course, we know you didn't." Theo replied. Draco knew Theo's words were accompanied by an eye roll.

"Too big of a wanker" Draco let out a wet laugh at Blaise's jab. Theo reached over Draco to hit Blaise on Draco's behalf.

"What? Are you going to tell me he isn't? Blaise asked.

"No," Theo began, "but we are supposed to be being supportive right now."

"Sorry mate, I can't lie to him." Blaise lagged in reply.

"Moody reckons a dark wizard put it in, and I think he meant Karkoff, but I dunno."

"Don't they have to get permission from your parents for this sort of thing?" Theo wondered aloud.

Blaise let out a scoff and replied, "This is a school that sends students into the forbidden forest for detention, keeps students in school even when there is a deadly snake roaming the pipes, and employed a werewolf…"

Theo nods, "That is true. Though, if I'm being honest, I rather liked Professor Lupin."

Draco was no longer listening to them, too consumed at the thought of his parents- But, he realized, they were his way out of this! All he needs to do now is write a letter to his father and everything will be straightened right away… But then the flame of excitement fizzled out. Yes, he could tell his father and his father could at least attempt to use his ministry contacts to get him out of it, but should he let them? This was huge. An opportunity to make a name for himself, one that people would take seriously. He would move beyond the bit of a joke he had become. The pureblood with bodyguards. His previous antics were childish, but this would be a metamorphosis. More than just his surname and father's reputation. Maybe he could even win...stranger things had happened. Clearly, someone wanted him to compete, and probably for nefarious reasons like his death, but who? And more importantly, why? And if he backed out, then it was down to Diggory or Potter for Hogwarts. The very idea of rooting for a Hufflepuff made him queasy. This was an opportunity to not only take down Potter but give Slytherin a much-deserved victory. And if Potter could handle being in the competition then Draco most assuredly could as well, after all, he was far better at magic than him.

"I'm going to do it," Draco said before rising to his feet looking down at his two friends. Theo and Blaise, like him, clearly were torn in how to feel, but they chose to be supportive of his decision. After all, it should have been his decision, whoever put his name in the Goblet of Fire had clearly wanted to take that away from him, and perhaps he deluded himself into thinking he was able to just walk away from it all, he no longer wanted to. The shock finally left his system.

"In that case, we should get back to the common room. They're celebrating without you and are probably all sloshed by this point." Blaise stated as he stood up and stretched.

"They are most definitely sloshed by this point, I think Adrian was going to snag some elven wine and you know Montague has fire whiskey. Crabbe might get sloshed enough to make another pass at Daphne." Theo joked knowing full well of Blaise's crush.

"You go ahead. I am going to go have a word with Dumbledore about the tournament."

"Right. Well, you might want to take a moment to compose yourself," Blaise commented while gesturing to Draco's face. Draco made a move to wipe his face with his sleeves when Blaise brandished his wand, pointed it at Draco's face, and said "Tergeo." He then pocketed his wand nodding at his handiwork.

"Have you ever used that spell before?" Theo questioned in shock while Draco ran his hands over his face accounting for everything.

"Yeah," Blaise replied, shrugging "Once."

"Once, yeah? And you decided you knew it well enough to use it on my face?" Draco accused.

"It worked, and even if it hadn't, anything would have been an improvement mate." Blaise shrugged.

"A little warning next time?" Draco shook his head. "See you back in the common room."

Draco waved at them as they headed to another set of doors across the courtyard that was closer to the stairs leading to the dungeons. Draco took one more deep breath before he pulled open the door.

He was slightly surprised to find someone was waiting for him in the entryway, not necessarily surprised someone was there, more who that person was.

"Feeling better, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall asked him, her face still looking at him with worry present. An expression Draco did not think he would ever get used to. She quickly assessed him as her answer and continued, "The headmaster would like a word with you before you join your housemates for their celebrations."

Draco nodded at her, feeling rather tired after the events of the evening, but he knew his night was far from over between speaking with Dumbledore and the chaotic party awaiting him.

When they stood before the golden griffin that led to the Headmaster's office, McGonagall said, "Sherbert lemon" for the password. The only words she spoke their entire journey. She gestured for him to go ahead and made no move to follow him.