Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
A/N: I apologize for the long delay since my last update. It's been a very busy summer for me and frankly, Deathly Hallows was a lot to absorb. Between the anticipation and the aftermath, it took me awhile to come to terms that the wait is over and the answers have all been given. All I can say is thank you Jo for such a great journey! While I'm mourning the characters that were lost, I'm grateful for the ones who survived. However, since this story was plotted and half written before DH, nothing in my story will change. It will remain a post-HBP fic and I'm not changing it to fit DH canon. I hope you understand and keep that in mind when reviewing. I'm going to try for weekly updates, but honestly I don't know if I'll be able to keep them up. However, I will update regularly – at least two to three times a month. It depends on how much I can get written, as I'm trying to keep myself a good deal ahead of the updates. The story gets more complicated as it goes along and the writing is a lot more intense, so I need to give myself room to breathe. I promise that no matter how long it takes, I'll finish it eventually. I don't abandon stories. Ever. So relax and enjoy the ride!
Chapter Nine: Draco
"Malfoy," Harry growled. "What are you doing here?"
He wanted nothing better than to wipe the smug, arrogant smirk off the blond Slytherin's face. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on his wand even more, jamming the end into the other boy's throat.
"Haven't got enough attention, Potter?" Draco shot back in a slightly strangled but cool voice that only Harry could hear. "I would have thought you'd be thrilled with the 'Marry Me' sign. It may be your only chance to procreate, you know." Then his eyes slid to Ginny standing by Harry's side, her own wand out and pointed at him, too. "I see, you thought you'd try your hand at the Weaselette again. Don't blame you really. I'm sure she's a good lay, although you wouldn't catch me shagging a filthy blood traitor like her no matter how nice she looks in a skirt."
Harry forgot all about hexing Draco. Instead, he dove after him, uncertain of whether he wanted to hit him or strangle him. As they fell backwards together in a heap, Harry felt several strong arms grab him from behind and pull him off Malfoy. Determinedly, he struggled against them with the single-minded goal of making Malfoy pay for that comment – as well as every other sin he had ever committed. His wand was gone, discarded somewhere. He barely heard the yells of protest coming from Professor McGonagall and the others around him because the ringing of rage in his ears was too great, building in a crescendo of deafening proportion. It wasn't until he found himself Petrified that he realized he'd been about to commit murder in front of a crowd of witnesses.
"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall scolded. "This is totally inappropriate behaviour – especially coming from our Head Boy. You should know better than to attack a fellow student, no matter what your history with him!"
Someone had laid him on his back and he stared up at his Headmistress, his eyes full of fury.
"I will release you only when I have your assurance that you will not attack Mr. Malfoy again. Blink if you understand me."
Try as he might, he couldn't stop his eyes from blinking. Professor McGonagall took that as a positive sign and cast the counter spell to release him, but not before he had instructed the boys nearby to keep close in case Harry decided to go off again.
Incredibly, she turned to Ginny and said, "Thank you for your assistance, Miss Weasley. That showed very quick thinking on your part, although I do not normally condone jinxing fellow students. Ten points to Gryffindor for your level-headedness."
Harry turned to his girlfriend incredulously. "You jinxed me?" he gasped angrily.
Ginny returned his glare fiercely. "I'd rather jinx my boyfriend than see you up on charges for murdering a foul git like him!" she said jerking her thumb towards Malfoy who was nursing a cut lip.
Draco struggled to his feet unsteadily. "At least your woman has some sense, Potter. More than I can say for the Chosen One, our great saviour."
"Shut up!" both Harry and Ginny yelled irritably at the same time turning away from each other to glare at him furiously. Ginny pointed her wand at him for good measure as Harry summoned his into his outstretched hand, the crowd gasping and applauding lightly at his wandless skills. He ignored them and focused on Draco.
"Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said in a very annoyed voice, also ignoring Harry's unconscious display of power. "I would very much like to get to the bottom of this, but I prefer to do it somewhere more private after we've all had some time to distance ourselves a bit from this drama."
"I agree, Minerva," Csintalan said pompously, frowning disapprovingly at Draco as he straightened his blood red dress robes. "I had no idea Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter harboured such animosity towards each other. According to Mr. Malfoy they were supposed to be old school chums. I had no reason to doubt his honesty."
"He's not my chum, Professor," Harry snarled. "He's a murderer and a traitor."
"Prove it!" Malfoy yelled back defiantly, moving towards Harry again with his wand drawn.
Harry tried to go for Malfoy's throat once again but Colin and Cory held him back.
"Enough!" Professor McGonagall shrill voice interceded, stopping the impending fight.
As soon as she was certain they were under control, the Headmistress turned back to Csintalan. "I'm afraid Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy have never had a good relationship, Boris." Her icy glance slid to Draco. "It is true that Mr. Malfoy has not had a clean history in the last few years, but he was acquitted by the Ministry of Magic of any wrongdoing a few months ago for lack of evidence and age restrictions. Mr. Potter has obviously not accepted the court ruling. However, despite Mr. Malfoy's questionable loyalties, there is still no excuse for this disgusting display of testosterone. Please accept my apology."
"There is nothing to accept, Madame," he said graciously. "The fault lies entirely with me. I should have checked into the boy's background more thoroughly before agreeing to admit him to my school and this delegation."
Madame Maxime cleared her throat noisily. "Dinner will be in one 'our in our Dining Chamber where we will officially begin ze Triwizard Tournament," she announced. "Per'aps we could regroup and pull ourselves togetzer before zen, oui?"
"I think that is a grand idea, Olympe," Professor McGonagall said in an aggravated, stressed tone of voice that told Harry how truly angry she really was over this incident. She smoothed her already immaculate robes pristinely. "After the champions are chosen tomorrow I would suggest that Mr. Potter and I meet with Professor Csintalan and Mr. Malfoy in my quarters to discuss this matter further." She glanced at Ginny. "Miss Weasley, perhaps you should be there as well. Of course, Olympe, you are most welcome to join us if you wish."
"Zank you, Minerva," Madame Maxime said with an incline of her head. "I would like zat very much." She turned to her students and said something abruptly in French which sounded like an order. The crowd disbanded reluctantly and began to move away towards the school, which Harry hadn't even had time to notice yet. He tried to ignore the curious looks he was getting from the other students and focus on keeping his anger under control.
The three groups disbanded and went in opposite directions – the Hogwarts group going back to the train and the Durmstrang group heading in the direction of their ship which was anchored on a dock some distance away. Harry's murderous eyes followed them as they made their way towards the vast blue body of water that Harry supposed must be the Mediterranean Sea.
"Are you okay?" Ginny asked him in a tentative, uncertain voice, sliding her hand on his shoulder in a sympathetic gesture.
He stiffened at her touch. "Do I bloody well look okay?"
She stiffened too and withdrew her hand. "I don't like the git any more than you do, but I couldn't very well let you kill him in front of hundreds of witnesses, could I?"
"It would have been worth it," he said, sheathing his wand roughly.
She exhaled a breath of tense air from her lungs. "I know you don't mean that, Harry."
"Maybe not," he admitted in frustration. "But after what he said about you, I would have thought you'd want to hex him yourself."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "What did he say about me?"
Suddenly Harry regretted saying anything. He should have kept it to himself. He had no desire to hurt Ginny's feelings by repeating anything Malfoy, the stupid git, had said about her.
"It doesn't matter," he told her. "He was just being typical Malfoy, that's all."
Her eyes were as hard as her voice as she retorted indignantly, "I can fight my own battles, Harry. I don't need you to protect me, you know."
Harry pondered that for a moment. He had no doubt that Ginny could handle herself in any situation, but he still felt the need to protect her. He just couldn't help himself. Malfoy's comments were rude and obnoxious. Telling her what he had said would only upset her and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
"Just drop it, okay?"
She shrugged her compliance and to his relief visibly relaxed. "I wonder what he's doing here."
Harry knew exactly what his intentions were. "He's here to cause trouble."
"You know, he is a foul git but I do feel sorry for him."
Harry turned to her, surprised, not understanding her in the least. "How can you feel sorry for him after everything he's done?"
Ginny shrugged. "He lost everything in the war, Harry. He's broke, both his parents are dead, he doesn't even have any friends to look out for him. It must be terrible to lose so much and be all on your own."
"I can't feel sorry for him, Ginny," he said, shaking his head. "And I don't understand why you would. He tried to kill Dumbledore, and he was working for Voldemort."
"But he didn't kill Dumbledore," Ginny countered. "You said that when it came down to it he couldn't do it. And after that, he disappeared didn't he? I don't think he was working for him after that, Harry. Otherwise we would have seen evidence of it."
"So what if he was hiding out like a coward?" Harry said. "He's still as slippery as his father, and as dirty too. After everything Lucius did to you…"
"That was his father, not Draco," Ginny pointed out.
"Oh, so now it's Draco?" Harry said angrily. "Want to be best mates with him now, huh?"
"I didn't say that," she corrected him, her voice tinged with bridled irritation. "No matter what, he's still a loathsome, foul git and I couldn't ever imagine us being friends in a million years – especially after the way he acted today. But try to calm down and see that he's as much of a victim as any of us. He was raised to think and believe a certain way, almost like brainbathing – or whatever Hermione says the Muggles call it. All I'm saying is that I feel sorry for him."
"That's brainwashing," Harry corrected her, "and I don't feel a bit sorry for him. He made his choices and now he has to live with the consequences."
Ginny shrugged coolly. "It's only my opinion. What do I know?" She sped up, making Harry think she might be angry with him.
He increased his pace too, easily catching up with her. "I've known Malfoy longer than you and he's always been a loose canon," he insisted stubbornly. "He's dangerous, and I know he's up to something. I just have to figure out what, that's all."
"For your own sanity, Harry, maybe you should just let it go," she said. "Let the past stay in the past. The war is over."
"I can't."
"And that's your choice, too," she said pointedly, using his words against him.
"I just have a bad feeling about this," he insisted. "You can still change your mind about the tournament, you know. We could try to figure out what he's up to together. You don't have to put your name in, Ginny."
Ginny's face turning stony letting Harry know he'd said the wrong thing.
"I understand why you're worried, but you have to trust me," she said slowly, like she was trying to contain her temper. "This is different than what you went through. For one thing, I'm almost twice as old as you were when you competed. I am more experienced than you were then, and I've lived through more than you had at fourteen, even with all your problems. I'm not being played here. This is my choice, Harry, and I'm not backing down from my position."
"Ginny, I know what you said before about wanting to prove yourself, but you don't need to do that," he insisted. "You don't have anything to prove to anyone, especially me."
She sighed. "Please understand… this is just something that I have to do."
"I still wish you wouldn't do it," he said obstinately.
"And I wish you would just trust me for once," she countered, "like I've always trusted you – even though you've consistently refused to give me the same respect."
She walked off at a fast pace, obviously cross with him.
He didn't follow, although part of him very much wanted to. Instead he watched her retreating form with unease, knowing that something terrible was about to happen and feeling helpless to stop it.
(break)
The Hogwarts students got their first look at the Palace of Beauxbatons almost an hour later. Harry remembered overhearing the Beauxbatons delegation discussing the differences between their school and Hogwarts, but he hadn't fully appreciated just how different they truly were. The palace reminded him of the pictures he had seen in primary school of Versailles, the French Palace built in the mid-17th century for King Louis XIV. In fact, it could have been an exact copy.
The courtyards were large and elaborate with marble paving and large fountains scattered throughout the grounds. The palace itself was a light colour – much lighter than the grey of the Hogwarts Castle – almost white, in fact. There were no turrets or towers, either. The building, while enormous, was relatively flat on top. Gold was everywhere, and the bright, warm sun reflected the metallic embellishments so that at times Harry had to shield his eyes from the blinding rays. On top of the school was a powder blue flag bearing the Beauxbatons coat of arms, two crossed golden wands each emitting three stars.
Inside the castle there were no suits of armour, but there was more marble and more gold. There were also paintings and murals everywhere, even on the ceiling, and many, many mirrors. The palace seemed alive with movement and frivolity, as many of the paintings were of French men and women hosting parties and toasting fluted goblets of champagne. Fine crystal chandeliers above were equipped with candles, but the rooms had so many windows and were so bright Harry doubted they'd be needed until well after the sun went down. The fireplaces they passed were elegant and clean, with ornately carved mantles decorated with flowers and greenery but no dancing flames inside the grates.
He had never seen such finery in his entire life. Even the pictures Harry had seen of Buckingham Palace didn't compare in the least to opulence and shear elegance of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.
The Dining Chamber was like a lesson in etiquette. Unlike Hogwarts, there were no long tables for students, instead there were smaller round tables set with fine linens, crystal, china, and silver. He had never seen so many forks in one place. Each table had an elegant centrepiece of fresh flowers that filled the room with a pleasing fragrance. The centrepiece was flanked by two tall candlesticks of fine crystal, each with a tapered white candle that never seemed to melt. A scroll edged in gold and tied up with a powder blue ribbon had been placed in front of each plate on the tables designed to accommodate about eight to ten people.
The Hogwarts delegation was directed by their guide to a group of tables reserved for the delegations from the other two schools. Harry looked over in displeasure to see the Durmstrang delegation including Malfoy already sitting at their tables. He made sure he put a considerable distance between the Slytherin-turned-Durmstrang-student and himself, but unfortunately it set him further away from Ginny who had gotten stuck at the other table. She hadn't said two words to him since their conversation an hour earlier and had struck up a conversation with Luna on the walk over. Harry was beginning to get worried that she was still angry and avoiding him on purpose. He knew he'd have to smooth things over soon, but for now it was probably better that they keep their distance until they'd both had time to calm down.
The rest of the tables soon began to fill as students of various ages filtered into the Dining Chamber dressed in their powder blue robes. Harry almost envied their uniforms even though he wouldn't be caught dead in the colour – they looked light and airy, unlike their black wool robes which suited the Scottish climate very well but not the Mediterranean one they found themselves in. From the looks of it, he wasn't the only person having trouble adjusting to the temperature change. Most of the other students also appeared hot, especially the students from Durmstrang. Most had sweat dripping down their foreheads; Harry noticed a few discreetly reach up and wipe it away with a handkerchief.
"How come you're not sitting with Ginny?" Colin asked as he took his seat beside Harry.
Looking around the table, he realized that he was sitting with Colin, Elizabeth Peltzer and Amie Gunter of Gryffindor, Grant Tull and Lindsay Sparks of Hufflepuff, Tony Tanaka of Ravenclaw, and the two Slytherin girls, Aurora Anders and Lynn Rockford. That left Ginny at the other table with Luna, Cory Lockwood of Gryffindor, Jason Felds of Ravenclaw, Manfred Baker and Barbara White of Hufflepuff, and Theodore Nott who was seated on her right. He swore inwardly at himself for not being more vigilant. No matter how angry they were at each other, he still didn't like Ginny sitting anywhere near Theodore Nott.
"We got separated in the crowd," he said evasively not wanting to share his and Ginny's personal problems with the group.
Luckily Colin didn't press. "So," he asked, "why do you think Malfoy's here?"
Harry shrugged. "Who knows? I'm sure it'll only lead to trouble, though."
Colin's eyes searched out Malfoy and then narrowed dangerously when they found him. "I never heard the full story about what happened with him," he admitted. "He just sort of disappeared, didn't he?"
Harry's jaw clenched painfully. "He followed his daddy's lead and joined up with Voldemort, but when he realized he'd gotten in too deep he ran like a coward."
"I've heard he's dead broke," Aurora Anders said with a condescending smirk. "All of his parents' money was confiscated by the Ministry, including his trust fund and their family estate."
Her friend Lynn giggled. "How the mighty have fallen. Draco always walked around the Common Room like it was his personal property. Now he's destitute, poor thing," she said with another sarcastic giggle.
"Isn't it a funny coincidence that he showed up here, though?" Colin said suspiciously. "I don't know him well, but the Triwizard Tournament just doesn't seem like his cup of tea."
"I agree," Harry said, "but if he's as broke as what they say, then maybe he's in it for the prize money."
"Maybe," Colin agreed, looking over that the Durmstrang table thoughtfully.
"There're the teachers," Tony said, nodding towards the head of the room and a single long table. The Beauxbatons staff led by Madame Maxime entered together from a side entrance, with Professors McGonagall and Csintalan in tow.
Harry's eyes widened as the entire student body of Beauxbatons ceased talking abruptly and jumped to their feet at the first sight of Madame Maxime. Uncertain of what to do, he followed the others' lead and rose to his feet respectfully, as did the all the students from the delegations. Harry noticed irritably that Malfoy was the last one in the room on his feet.
"Zank you, my darlings," Madame Maxime said warmly. "It ez time to begin ze Triwizard Tournament at last. But first…"
She reached for her crystal goblet and tapped it with the tip of her wand. Everyone's goblet including her own immediately filled to the brim with bubbling champagne. Madame Maxime raised her glass and all the students did too. Harry, like the rest at their table, also reached for his glass and waited expectantly to see what would happen next.
"I would like to welcome our distinguished guests to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic," she said in a formal voice, looking over towards the delegates and then at Professor McGonagall and Csintalan fondly. "May your stay 'ere be pleasant, and may we improve our friendships. To international cooperation and ze Triwizard Tournament!"
The crowd raised their glasses and repeated collectively as if it had already been rehearsed, "To ze Triwizard Tournament!" Then they all drank liberally from their glasses.
Harry had never tried champagne before, and he found that he didn't care for it much. It tickled his throat as it went down and left an odd taste in his mouth. But he politely sipped on it anyway then put it down when the others did, following Madame Maxime's lead.
Much to his annoyance, no one sat down. They had to endure three more toasts, one to Csintalan and his students from Durmstrang, one to Professor McGonagall and the students of Hogwarts, and then finally one to him. His cheeks flamed with embarrassment as every glass in the house was raised in honour of his achievements as past Triwizard champion and defeater of You-Know-Who. Determinedly, he kept his eyes averted from the direction of Draco Malfoy who was sure to have a condescending sneer on his face.
Finally, the toasts were over and Madame Maxime said, "Dinner ez served!" She sat down and everyone in the room followed suit.
Unlike Hogwarts, dinner didn't appear magically at the table. All the Hogwarts students looked at each other, confused.
"Where's the food?" Colin whispered to Harry.
He shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe it's like the Yule Ball and you have to tell the plate what you want." Sure enough, he looked over at the Beauxbatons students who were untying their scrolls and examining them. A few tables had already ordered their food and he saw various dishes begin to appear all around him.
They all picked up their scrolls and opened them.
"It's in French," Elizabeth said in disappointment. "How are we supposed to read it?"
"Too bad Hermione's not here," Harry muttered, looking at his menu helplessly. "The only thing I recognize is Bouillabaisse."
"What's Bouillabaisse?" Lindsay, who was sitting on his other side, asked him.
"Shellfish soup," he told her. "I remember they served it at Hogwarts when the delegations arrived for the last Tournament."
"I can read a little French," Tony offered. "But I don't recognize everything."
"What's escargot?" Lynn asked.
"Snails," Tony told her.
"Ewww!"
"They're a delicacy in France," Tony explained. "I've had them before. They're not as bad as they sound. A classic French meal is served as a series of courses, usually with small servings that are arranged to be pleasing to the eye. To the French, a meal is not only about taste, but also presentation. See how the menu is arranged? It gives you several options for each course. From the looks of it, you just point your wand to the item you want, say the name of the dish, and it appears."
Sure enough, Harry saw what Tony was talking about on his own menu. The menu seemed to be divided into distinct sections. Bouillabaisse was near the top as one of the first courses, along with Tarte aux Tomates et au Pistou, Foie Gras en Terrine, Soufflé aux Brocoli, and Betteraves au Balsamic. Further on down the menu was listed a veal dish called Veau à la persillade, something called Poussins aux Herbes de Provence, and Espadon à la Rouille which Tony said he thought might be swordfish. There were five puddings listed but none of them had any words that even came close to resembling Treacle. In the end it was just point and guess, hope for the best. The result was a beet dish (he hated beets), a fantastic chicken main entrée, and Pumpkin Crème Brulée, which wasn't bad.
Once dinner was over and the dishes had been cleared Madame Maxime called for the casket that held the Goblet of Fire. Two footmen carried it to her and set it on a special stand in front of the teachers' table. With a flourish, Madame Maxime raised her large frame and came around to stand in front of the jewel incrusted box that held the magical object.
"Ze Tournament ez now begun!" she said grandly, tapping her wand lightly on the chest. Everyone clapped as the lid popped open and she pulled out the crude wooden cup brimming with blue-white flames.
Harry stared at it, mesmerized by the dancing fire, tuning out Madame Maxime's warnings and instruction so similar to the ones Dumbledore had given five years earlier. That cup had started the chain of events that had changed his life. If he was really honest with himself he could have gone back even further, but here was a visual reminder of what could have been right here in front of him. If his name had never come out that night he might not have ended up in that graveyard. Cedric might have lived and Voldemort might not have gotten his body back. So many lives might have been saved…
He shook himself out of his black mood as the room exploded in applause. He couldn't live with the 'what ifs' anymore – that burden was too heavy to carry around on his shoulders. And if he couldn't change the past, he could certainly make an impact on the future.
Harry turned his head and found Ginny gazing raptly at the Goblet of Fire, her eyes alight with excitement and determination. As if feeling his attention on her, she turned and met his gaze. Swallowing his reservations about her competing in the tournament, he smiled and she tentatively smiled back, a look of adoration clearly present on her face.
Behind her he could see the profile of Draco Malfoy's pinched, pale face staring at him with a look that could be interpreted as pure hatred – a look Harry returned unflinchingly. Malfoy was up to something, he could feel it, and because of that Harry knew he couldn't let this go. No matter what Ginny thought, that man was dangerous. There was no way he could turn his back on this. For his own peace of mind he'd have to find out what game Malfoy was playing and put a stop to it once and for all. Only when Malfoy was in Azkaban would the war truly be over. Then, and only then, could he put the past to rest.
[A/N: Thanks to my beta, Arnel, for helping me edit this chapter, and to Melindaleo for her pre-beta encouragement and advice – especially on the characterizations of Ginny and Harry. Also, thanks to Terri and Chreechree for helping me tweak the first part of this story, and the members of Melindaleo's list for their encouragement, especially when I'm feeling down about myself as an author after a very nasty review. I appreciate all the help and encouragement everyone has given, and every positive or constructive review as well. Thanks especially to YOU for reading!