Draco took advantage of the congestion that had formed around Krum to slip away from his friends and get beside Karkaroff.

The man glanced his way once fleetingly, then away, and then quickly back, paling like he's seen a ghost.

"Headmaster Karkaroff," Draco said, with pureblood polish, and dipped his head in a slight gesture of deference.

"Mr Malfoy?" Karkaroff nodded slightly when Draco inclined his head, but his eyes flicked to the Gryffindor crest on Draco's robes. "You have the look of your father." Draco kept his expression polite and mouth closed. "Did you want something?"

"Just to meet you," Draco said. He smiled, but only with his mouth. "Your reputation precedes you, and I was curious."

"My reputation?" Karkaroff paled but did his best to keep his expression calm. "All good, I hope." Karkaroff's chuckle had a nervous edge to it and his eyes scanned the bustling students around them and then the cluster Krum was surely at the centre of, as if he was hoping to find an excuse to escape.

But his attention was clearly not entirely on his surroundings, because Draco felt the lightest brush of a Legillimency probe against his mind. It was not an attempt to reach deep - it was the equivalent of dipping a finger or toe into a bath or pond to check the temperature - but it was subtle, subtler than Severus had ever been. Draco made no attempt to stop him, but kept all his thoughts and feelings - except for a polite curiosity, and sense of entitlement (fabricated quickly on the spot, with his trips into Hydrus' head over the holidays as his inspiration) - below the surface.

"Of course," Draco said, watching with interest when Karkaroff's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Father wanted to send me to Durmstrang."

"Well, it's a shame he didn't," Karkaroff said, recovering; his voice was oily again, the way it had been when he'd greeted Dumbledore on the grounds. The faint feel of him in Draco's mind vanished. "We'd have been very happy to have you-"

"It's your loss, I assure you." Severus melted out of the crowd, and put a hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco glanced up, and the very corners of Severus' mouth turned down. Draco suppressed a wince.

"S-Severus," Karkaroff said, and if he'd been nervous around Draco, then he was positively terrified of Severus. Draco's eyes flicked between them.

"Karkaroff," Severus said in a dangerously silky tone. "Long time, no see."

"I- yes, a long time. My students keep me very busy." Karkaroff's eyes darted around again, but the three of them were alone by the doors, now. "You're looking well, Severus, clearly Hogwarts suits you-"

"More than Azkaban, certainly." Severus arched an eyebrow - a challenge. Karkaroff thought so too, because he seemed to shrink. "Or do you still believe otherwise?"

"No, no- I- You know I had no choice…"

"There is always a choice, Karkaroff."

"You've been spending too much time with Dumbledore, Severus - you're starting to sound like him." Severus said nothing, and the forced mirth on Karkaroff's face faded. "We should speak, Severus, discuss… everything, apologise…"

"I wasn't aware I owed you an apology."

It was a good thing Draco had spent so much time with Severus as a child, because it took every bit of the control he'd learned to keep himself from laughing at the look on Karkaroff's face; it was equal parts sour and pleading, and made even funnier in contrast to the supremely unimpressed look on Severus'.

"Come, Severus, let's not do this here in front of the boy…" Karkaroff glanced briefly at Draco. "I'll come and find you, and we'll talk, about this, and… other matters. Yes?" Draco expected Severus to reply with something scathing, or demand a more immediate conversation, but he simply took a step back and inclined his head, removing his hand from Draco's shoulder as he went. "A pleasure, Mr Malfoy," Karkaroff said, and then strode out, his steps just quick enough to give him away as less composed than he was trying to appear.

Draco felt rather than saw - because his eyes were still on Karkaroff - Severus turn to stare at him:

"Explain yourself," he said, but not angrily.

"Karkaroff's a Legillimens," Draco said, keeping his voice down, despite them being alone. Severus grunted.

"A poor excuse for one. Did you reveal yourself?"

"I don't think so," Draco said. Severus' expression didn't change much, but Draco sensed his approval all the same.

"Karkaroff is an incredibly subtle practitioner, I'll grant him, but not able to penetrate beyond the mind's surface, and he has no Occlumency ability whatsoever. Do not let him concern you."

"He doesn't," Draco said, honestly. "Potter thinks he's involved in the Dark Lord's plans somehow-"

"Ah, yes," Severus said, "the dragon plot."

"-but having just met him... I don't think he is."

"Why?" Severus studied him.

"Because he's afraid," Draco said.

"Pettigrew is proof that cowards can flourish in the Dark Lord's employ," Severus said, but he arched an eyebrow in the same challenging manner as he had with Karkaroff earlier, and Draco thought he was being contrary for the sake of it.

"If Karkaroff was in the Dark Lord's employ, he wouldn't be terrified of you," Draco said. "He wouldn't care what you thought because he'd have his Lord behind him. Instead, he's trying to- to do whatever he was trying to do."

"Igor Karkaroff was captured at the end of the war, and made a deal with the Ministry; they spared him from Azkaban, and in return, he gave them information, names. Mine was among them." Severus quirked the corners of his mouth up when Draco stared at him, surprised. "Karkaroff has filled more prison cells than some Aurors. He's not popular amongst the Death Eaters - that's why he fled Britain and has spent the last thirteen years hiding at Durmstrang."

"Right," Draco said, and then was silent, letting the information sink in, and trying to adjust to this new, incredibly forthcoming version of his godfather.

"The Headmaster asked me to speak with him tonight," Severus said, after a moment, "and see if I could find out how he might be involved in the Dark Lord's plans against Potter." His eyes lingered on the empty Entrance Hall. "I agree with your conclusion, that Karkaroff is not working with the Dark Lord at present. I had reached the same one." Draco felt a little stir of pride, but it faded as soon as Severus' mouth turned down. "Unfortunately, that means there is someone else with access to the castle that is filling the role we had all assumed would be Karkaroff's."

"What do you think of the Dark Lord's plan?" Draco asked.

"It's troubling," Severus said, after a moment. "It seems to me like a plan with too many variables - there is no way to guarantee where Potter will sit, and who might sit with him, no way to control the dragon once it's loose, no way to ensure it will remain loose for long enough for them to accomplish whatever they need to… There is more to it than what Potter saw. The Headmaster agrees. Black, too."

"And Potter," Draco said. "He was saying all through dinner that he doesn't think it's right. He said there's too much potential for things to go wrong for the Dark Lord to want to go ahead with it, and She-Weasley thought the same."

"Between them, they'd know." Severus was silent for a moment, then straightened. "I must report to the Headmaster, and you to Potter."

"Good night, sir," Draco said.

The castle's corridors and staircases were almost eerily quiet, but the noise in the common room more than made up for it, and Draco suspected it would be the same in the other Houses too; several of the couches had been pulled together and the fourth years (at least, the ones that weren't himself, Potter, Granger, or Weasley) were sitting with the fifth and sixth years, bemoaning the Age Line, and chattering excitedly about the other schools. The seventh years sat by the fire, discussing potential tasks, potential Champions, and whether or not they were going to enter, while a group of excited first and second years (and Creevey) listened in. Weasley One and Two and Jordan were poring over textbooks, looking for a potion or charm that might get them past the Age Line:

"... promising, mark that one. I wish we had more than a day; Bill would know a way through with some spell, or rune, or-"

"That's probably why Dumbledore's given such a short amount of time," Jordan pointed out, and both twins booed him.

Draco's lot, though, were nowhere in sight.

He found them in the boys' dormitory; Potter was lying on his back on his bed, scowling up at the red curtains of his four poster, while Granger perched on the end, clearly deep in thought. Weasley was sitting up against his pillows, clearly listening to Potter, but with his eyes on a quill on the mattress, and She-Weasley was lying on her stomach on Draco's bed.

"Where did you disappear to?" Granger asked, frowning.

"I wanted to speak to Severus," Draco said. He shut the door, waved at She-Weasley to get her to shuffle over, then went and settled against his headboard. Potter dragged himself up into a sitting position, hair sticking up in every possible direction.

"What did Snape have to say?" he asked.

"He doesn't think Karkaroff's involved," Draco said.

"What?" Potter's eyes widened. "But he is- he has to be-"

"He's not," Draco said, and gave Weasley a look. Weasley, thankfully, caught on at once. Really, letting him in on the truth was one of the best decisions Draco had ever made.

"He doesn't have to be," Weasley said. "You only heard his name in that dream, right? And we all just assumed- I mean, rightly so,, because he sounded like a right piece of work, but maybe… he's not."

"Maybe," Potter said, looking unconvinced. "Snape have anything else to say?"

"He thinks there's something odd about this... dragon plan," Draco said.

"That's because there is." Potter slumped back into his pillows with a groan, and Granger patted his leg consolingly. "He just- it's messy, it's too messy. Right?" He looked to She-Weasley who nodded.

"Severus said the same - too many variables. There's no way to guarantee where you'll be at the time, or who you'd be with, or what the dragon-"

"What if there was, though?" She-Weasley asked suddenly, sitting up. "What if they could guarantee exactly where he was?"

"How?" Draco asked.

"Maybe there'll be assigned seating, or a Top Box like at the World Cup-"

"Maybe," Weasley said, frowning. "Or maybe they'd make you-" He looked at Potter. "-part of the task? If V-Voldemort knows there's a dragon, he must know how the rest of it's going to run. That means he's probably going to have someone on the inside, so maybe the Champions will have to rescue someone, and they'll make sure that someone'll be Harry."

"I can think of a much simpler way to make you part of it," Granger said. "Make him a Champion." Silence met her comment. "Wait- No. I forgot about the Age Line-"

"Age Lines only stop people that aren't the right age from passing over them," Potter said. "Dumbledore used one last year, to stop Wormtail from using any secret passages into the school, and that's what he said about them. There's nothing to stop someone that is the right age from putting my name in." He did not seem at all pleased by the idea.

"But the Goblet- wouldn't it discount you?"

"Probably not," Weasley said, "or there's no point in the Age Line, is there?"

"Well," Draco said after a moment. "That narrows down who his accomplice might be, at least. Someone of age."

"That was a given- it couldn't have been someone underage," Granger said.

"Why not?" She-Weasley asked dully. "It has been before."

"Twice," Potter said.

"Yes." Granger huffed. "But if Voldemort's got information about the Tournament, it's got to be someone who's helping organise or judge, or maybe an Auror - someone at the Ministry, or involved with the dragons. It's not going to be a student."

"So someone puts Potter's name in," Draco said. "Who's to say he gets picked?"

"He's Harry," Weasley said, and Potter flung a pillow at him. "Ow! And-" Weasley tossed the pillow back. "-if that's not enough, just Imperius the Goblet."

Another silence followed this statement, broken when Potter sighed loudly and rolled onto his side, reaching for his mirror.


"Does it have to be up to the Goblet to decide?" Harry asked. "Can't the Headmasters just nominate their Champions?"

Marlene had been with them earlier, for just long enough to grimly inform them that yes, there would be dragons (though she refused to say how many, what type, or how they'd be used) in the first task, and then had headed downstairs to stand under the cloak, making a list of every person that approached the Goblet. In the meantime, Sirius, Dumbledore and Harry were trying to work out how to avoid the possibility of Harry becoming an unwilling Champion.

So far, they'd toyed with a few options, but none of them were much use:

They could try to very publicly pull him out of Hogwarts - faking an illness or an injury (or maybe even not faking, Harry had said, if that was what it took), except that would neither stop his name from being drawn, nor would it excuse him from the Tournament. Sirius suggested they change his name, but Dumbledore had shaken his head, and flipped through an ancient rulebook to show them a footnote about a C. Smith, who'd been entered by his mother (a rather notorious Headmistress) back in the 1800s. He'd emancipated himself, and changed his name to avoid being selected, but his name had come out and he'd still been bound to compete; the Goblet's magic picked a person as much as it picked a name, apparently.

"So we find something to change Harry as a person," Sirius said, and Harry and Dumbledore stared at him. "Not much, just a bit. A tiny bit of blood magic, maybe, just enough to make him different…" He shook his head. "That's a terrible idea - ignore me." Harry looked relieved.

"All other issues aside, as the Goblet does not select based on blood, there's no guarantee it would even be a viable way out." Dumbledore said. "And even if it was, I would advise against it; changing Harry's blood would affect Lily's protection, both on Harry, and on his aunt and cousin."

"Why don't we just… I dunno temporarily expel me?" Harry said, without much hope. "I can't compete if I'm not a student, right? And you said you were willing to homeschool me." He was clearly not joking; apparently, Harry was willing to back away from danger, as long as he was the only one at risk.

"Would that work?" Sirius asked. Dumbledore was silent, flipping through the rulebook and then silent as he read.

"To be considered eligible…" Dumbledore ran a long finger down the page, reading, then tapped a line, his scent thoughtful. "... at the time of their selection by the Goblet of Fire, a witch or wizard must be a current student of the school listed on their submitted entry slip…"

"A current student," Sirius repeated. "So we could expel him." He glanced at Harry, and didn't think he'd ever known a student to look so hopeful about expulsion. "Expel him for a few days, then say it was all a big misunderstanding and invite him back…" Dumbledore's beard twitched, and he pushed the book back, then steepled his long fingers. His scent started thoughtful but grew more tired the longer he sat there. Sirius glanced at Harry again, and knew Harry had smelled it too.

"No," Dumbledore said finally, and, while not surprised, Sirius still found himself disappointed. "No, I don't think we can- Or rather, not the way we need to."

"Meaning what?" Sirius asked, a bit confused by his odd clarification.

"We could expel him - sorry, dear boy, you - certainly. Expulsions are rare at Hogwarts, but if the situation merited it… and I daresay, between the three of us, we could come up with something that would… But expulsions must be approved by the Board of Governors, and it would have to be a dire situation indeed to get them all to convene at such short notice."

"I reckon you're underestimating how creative we could be," Sirius said. Harry cracked a smile for the first time that night, and it was utterly James.

"Quite the contrary," Dumbledore said, and there was a softness to his smile that made Sirius think he'd seen it too. "I fear we would need to be so convincing that there would be little hope of reversing the expulsion when it became convenient. I also very much doubt that Lucius Malfoy would allow you to be expelled, Harry, not if he thought it might interfere with Voldemort's plans."

"And my wand," Harry said, face falling. "They'd snap it, like they did Hagrid's, and if I was somehow forced to compete anyway..."

"Merlin," Sirius sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "So what, then? We just let them enter him? Let him be bound to compete?"

A despairing look flicked over Harry's face so briefly that Sirius might have thought he'd imagined it, except it was reflected in Harry's scent as well. Then, Harry's jaw set, and his eyes hardened. It was the expression he'd worn when he left to meet Wormtail at the end of last term. The sight of it made Sirius feel almost sick with helplessness.

"No, there is a chance, yet." Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Damaris Sprottle is an incredibly reasonable witch." He indicated the bookmarks in the old rulebook. "She has already deemed it fit to change some of the more archaic rules. It might be possible to convince her to make our decision that Champions be of age an actual requirement, enforced by more than just my Age Line. We could create a rule to create a loophole…" He turned to Harry. "Would I be right in assuming Mister and Mister Weasley will be trying to find a way to get their names into the Goblet of Fire?"

"Er…" It was all over Harry's face that Dumbledore had assumed correctly, but he clearly didn't want to get say anything to incriminate the twins.

"Be at ease, Harry," Dumbledore said, helping himself to a sweet from the small bowl on his desk. "They will not be in trouble, I assure you. In fact, I think we ought to encourage it…"


"Again, you have my sincerest apologies-" Minerva was positively shaking with anger; her knuckles were white on the shoulders of the Weasley twins, her nostrils were flaring, and her lips were pressed together so tightly they had almost vanished entirely. It was not feigned; Albus had not explained anything to her in advance because Minerva was a rather poor actress, but George Weasley carried a note from Albus in his pocket that would explain things once they were back in Minerva's office, and before any punishment could be dealt. "-on behalf of these two, and their accomplice, who will be found and disciplined appropriately. I assure you, their parents will be notified-"

"Mum knows," George said, right on cue.

"She even encouraged it, actually," Fred added, looking at Ludo. "Reckons we could use the money." And Merlin bless Molly for being willing to sacrifice her reputation and her pride - because money was a touchy matter for the Weasley family - to try to protect Harry. Minerva must have squeezed Fred's shoulder to quieten him, because he winced. Albus didn't think the pain on his face was feigned.

"Thank you, Minerva," Albus said, and she nodded curtly and hauled the twins away from the table. "I must apologise as well; it seems my Age Line was not the foolproof solution we had hoped."

"Eet is not fools zat are ze problem," Olympe said, eyes tracking Minerva, Fred, and George's exit from the Hall. Ludo looked extremely uncomfortable, which surprised Albus; he'd have expected Ludo to find this very amusing indeed. "But of course, zey cannot be allowed to compete. We agreed only students zat are of age-"

"If the Goblet chooses them, they will be bound to compete," Damaris said, looking troubled. "Regardless of age."

"If I'd known this sort of- of- If I'd known this would be tolerated, I'd have brought a wider selection of my own students," Igor said angrily. Lightning flashed across the Hall's ceiling, as if summoned by his mood.

"Rest assured, Igor," Albus said, "this will not be tolerated. The question is, how do we resolve it?"

"We empty ze Goblet, of course," Olympe said, twisting one of her rings in her agitation. "Start afresh-"

"But who's to say we won't have the same problem, with some other loophole?" Igor said, folding his arms.

"It is troubling indeed." Albus stroked his beard, pretending to think. "Damaris, is there any way we can restrict entry beyond the Age Line?"

"Not easily." William Pemberley was the one that answered, looking nervously around, as if unsure if he was allowed to speak. When no one told him to be quiet, he continued with more confidence. "The Goblet of Fire wasn't designed with any sort of filters for age, and I don't think there's a witch or wizard alive that still understands the ancient magics used to create it well enough to include them now."

"Quite a pickle they've put us in." Ludo cast an uneasy glance toward the door.

"And if there is someone that could figure it out, I doubt they'd be able to do so before dinner." Damaris frowned.

"There must be something we can do," Albus pressed. "I am very much opposed to allowing any of my underage students into the Tournament, apparent resourcefulness aside."

"As Headmaster, you can attempt to overrule the Goblet's decision," Damaris said, and Albus turned to stare at her, surprised. Olympe and Igor's expressions were equally so. Ludo's mouth had fallen open:

"B-but- that defeats the entire purpose of the Goblet!" he exclaimed.

"It's a very old rule, and barely heard of because it's almost impossible to do; it's only happened twice since the conception of the Tournament. And, as Mr Bagman has pointed out, it is considered to be very much against the spirit of the Tournament, and therefore, not without consequence."

"How?" Albus asked. He glanced at the Goblet, its blue-white flames just visible in the Entrance Hall through the ajar door. Shadows moved around out there too; students, either entering their names or watching those that were, and teachers, supervising. Perhaps one of them was Voldemort's helper, or perhaps it was someone at the table with Albus, or, perhaps they had already come and gone.

"If a Headmaster - or Headmistress-" Damaris inclined her head in Olympe's direction. "-deems the Goblet's chosen Champion unfit to represent their school, they have a day to call a vote to attempt to nullify the magical contract. The result must be unanimously in the favour of the Headmaster that calls for the vote, and, since those voting are the other Headmasters, and the Tournament's organisers, you can imagine why it's considered almost impossible." Her eyes flicked between Albus, Olympe, and Igor.

"And, successful or not, the school takes a hundred point penalty," William said. "So strategically, it's a very bad idea."

"Does ze school forfeit in zis instance?"

"No," Damaris said. "When we lit the Goblet, we bound your schools to this Tournament, so someone must compete. If the vote does somehow succeed, the Goblet then surrenders the other names submitted by that school, and the other Headmasters choose the new Champion."

"Again," William said, looking stressed, "strategically very bad." Damaris seemed less bothered by the idea; she clearly thought it unlikely, but for her, any attention brought to the Tournament was good attention.

"I'll say!" Ludo looked stunned.

"Indeed," Albus murmured, but was privately quite prepared to sacrifice Hogwarts' chances in the Tournament to protect the life of one of his students. "But still useful to know, I think." It would work; if it came to it - and he still hoped Harry was wrong in his guess and it wouldn't - then he thought he could convince his fellows to vote in favour of nullifying the contract. If it came to it, he would have to; Albus would not let Harry down again.