A/N: I know I'm not the only one to make obscure references, unintentional or not. And I don't think a certain reference that I make us really that obscure. I make a reference to a muggle relative of Minerva McGonagall. For those who are interested enough to google it, his first name is William.

Chapter 23: The Silver Chalice

It was Remus Lupin, the Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, who first noticed the change. Not to say that people didn't notice a change in Draco. Almost no one knew why Draco left school that one weekend. Everyone knew he went to the infirmary directly upon his return. And everyone noticed that he was not smiling when he came out.

Draco did not laugh. If someone said something that was extremely funny, his lip might curl. And that was all. Hermione said it was as though all the joy had been sucked out of his life.

That was not quite right. It wasn't that something was missing. There was something new that was there. And that is what Remus Lupin noticed.

Draco Malfoy always sat in the back, but at least he was now coming to class. He would listen. When called upon, he would give the answer or admit that he did not know.

The subject was curses and how to deflect them. Remus Lupin was demonstrating the more common shielding spells and explaining their weaknesses. He had finished showing the Protego spell when the unusual happened. Draco Malfoy asked a question. And it was not a simple question to clarify something. It was the type of question that showed he had been thinking about the subject at hand.

"When a wizard subvocalizes a spell, is there any way of determining what type it is in time to cast the appropriate shield?"

Had any other student asked this question, Remus Lupin would have smiled at such an insightful question. But this was Draco Malfoy. And he asked the question as though his life depended on it. As though he would need to know the answer as soon as he walked out of the classroom.

"A curse, as with any spell, causes a reaction that can be seen in the visible spectrum. The colour of the spell. That is the only real clue you will be given."

Nor was that the only question. He asked three more in that class. What factors can influence a shield's strength? Can the nature of a shield be changed without ending the spell and casting a new one? Can Legilimency also be used as a form of attack?

At his earliest convenience, Remus made his observations known to both Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore

Professor Lestrange was the second person to notice. He eyed Draco carefully as the boy came down to Hagrid's hut for his lesson about animals. Today's lesson was about Abraxans, winged horses. Madame Maxime was there with Hagrid to help with the two horses. Draco had heard Hagrid say that the Beaubatons headmistress breeds them.

He was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. Uncle Rodolphus led him from the crowd of students and off to one side.

"Tell me, nephew. Does everyone now understand what it means to remember everything? I know you do. I know about myself. From the way Sirius Black avoids looking at you, I will wager he knows as well. Do not be surprised if Dumbledore expresses his sorrow in the near future."

"He won't," Draco said with assuredness. "I'm not that important."

"I would say you are."

"I'm not Potter or Longbottom. I'm the distraction that won't go away."

Lestrange nodded. "Has anyone told you about the prophecy?"

"No. But I know there is one. And because of it, HE has to kill one of them, preferably both. HE wants to kill me only because he doesn't like me."

Another nod. "If you have the chance, talk to Severus. He knows more about it than I do. All I can tell you is that you are right. Severus might be able to tell you why you are right."

This time Draco nodded. He was thinking again. He had 100 days to figure out what Voldemort's plan was. He knew almost everything. The cup would be a portkey. It would take the champion to Voldemort. Voldemort would restore himself and use the portkey to return to Hogwarts, most likely with all his Death Eaters. But. There was always a but.

Voldemort had the means to restore himself at any time. If his plan was to use a portkey, why not restore himself at once and have his spy use the portkey? Why did it have to be one of the champions? Draco said he had a plan. Draco needed to have a plan, not merely say he did.

"Do you like winged horses?" Rodolphus asked, to break the silence.

Draco gave an answer he knew his godfather would appreciate. "Yes. They taste like chicken?"

Rita Skeeter was the third person to notice. She had been visiting Hogwarts quite often. In disguise, of course. At least three times a week she would have an article about some bumbling idiot at the school and what they were doing. She even called Dumbledore an addled dingbat in one article for letting Hagrid handle those flying horses. A close call where Hagrid lost his grip on the rope but Madame Maxime managed to hold on to her rope until he could grab his again. In the article, it was a near disaster that was only avoided thanks to the professionalism of the foreign school teacher.

Now it was Wednesday afternoon, and Draco had the afternoon free. Rita was back in the greenhouse where Draco liked to practice. She commented on the silver chalice, saying it made a great drinking cup. A smile crept on her face when Draco explained his initial idea that it might give him a vision or something. At least now he never became thirsty while playing.

Rita's next comment was that his playing had improved. More than it should have over the past two weeks. It was as though he was now trying to learn instead of seeing how long it took him. Was it his mysterious weekend trip? She smiled again as Draco ignored her. She listened to the new song he was trying to learn. He was singing the words as he played, pausing as he failed to remember a note or word. She was struck by the intensity when he began the second verse. He could see by the way she was watching him.

"I dreamed a dream in times gone by / When hopes were high and life worth living."

"I never thought I would say this," Rita told him with all sincerity, "I never want to know what you remembered."

Draco's lips curled. Her words caused him to stop singing. He kept playing the melody, anyway.

"What?" Rita asked suddenly.

"Whot?"

"I would swear I heard someone say 'dark'."

"I didn't say anything."

"There," Rita was looking down. "The cup. The water had ripples. And I've heard the word 'must'."

It was no great feat to come to the conclusion that it had to be the music. Something was causing the cup to speak. It was Rita who suggested he play 'that note thing' that he did for his warm up exercises. Draco started to play the scales. As he played, Rita made a gesture. She had heard a word. A second gesture for a second word. At the third gesture, Draco slowed down. He began playing each note, one after the other with a pause between each note. When he reached C, Rita smiled. She told him she had her story for the front page. The Minister would hate her for it, but she would be singing Draco's praises. She assured him that Crouch wouldn't object because of all the bad things she was writing about Hogwarts.

Rita Skeeter also told Draco to be careful. It was obvious why the Champions should help each other. The voice from the cup was too low to be heard by whoever was playing, or singing. And her instructions were specific. He had to find a way for someone to discover this. And all four champions had to know this by tomorrow night. She wanted the entire clue for the Friday morning edition. Draco told her he couldn't promise anything. Once the secret was out, they'd all want to know right away. She dissolved into her beetle form after telling him he was probably right and to owl her if she needed to come back tonight.

Draco kept playing. Hopefully, someone would come by to disturb him.


Draco entered the Great Hall and walked at once to Angelina Johnson. He told her he had it. The secret of the cups.

"You finally decided to reveal it?" she asked.

Draco shook his head. He reminded her of the first task, that it was rigged so that he would lose. His guess was that the trick with the cups was designed so he had the best chance of figuring it out. He played the guitar. The cup responded to music. He also pointed out that the voice from the cup was not very loud. It couldn't be heard over the music if you were the one playing.

It was Professor Sprout who found out. She was checking on the greenhouses after her last class. She spotted Draco and gave him a smile. He forced himself to smile back, then asked if she would like to hear a tune. He explained that he owed her a favour for letting him have a quiet place to practice. When she walked up to listen, she commented that words seemed to come from the cup.

He then excused himself. He would tell the other champions. Angelina stood up. She would talk to Fleur. They would have to make a plan on where and when to get together. Angelina pointed to the head table. To Ludo Bagman. "Unless he has his own idea, we could ask about using the back room again."

Draco nodded. It was typical of Angelina. It had not even been five minutes and she had already worked out where to meet, while he, the discoverer of the secret, was still only thinking about telling everyone.

As he went to the Slytherin table to talk to Victor Krum, Angelina went to the Ravenclaw table where the Beaubatons students sat. By the time Draco had explained things to Victor, as well as Professor Karkaroff and everyone else who could listen in, Angelina and Fleur were at the head table talking to Bagman and Dumbledore.


When Fleur Delacour had asked, Ludo Bagman had assured the champions that the clue to be revealed was not a secret. The only secret was how to find the clue. He had no objection to others being there but recommended that there should not be too many people.

One hour after the meal ended, Draco was walking back to the Great Hall with his guitar. Hermione was carrying the cup for him. Angelina was with him as well as Fred and George. Both had already asked to test the cups afterward, to see if they worked with butterbeer as well as water. Justin was waiting, along with Professor Sprout. The Professor was commenting to Angelina that it was luck that she happened to hear something. She looked up and frowned.

Rita Skeeter had walked into the Great Hall. She apologized loudly for disturbing anyone "but someone told me that something was going to happen tonight, and since I was in Hogsmeade . . ."

Professor Sprout showed her disgust for the woman. Albus Dumbledore was smiling as he walked up to greet the new guest as though she was expected. Most of the students looked annoyed by her presence. The exceptions were Justin and Hermione. Both of them were convinced that Draco had something to do with her showing up, which he did.

"Ah, Rita, how nice of you to come," Dumbledore was saying, "but we are about to have a private meeting. I AM sorry, but unless you have been invited, I will have to ask you to leave."

"Draco, don't," Hermione whispered her warning.

"I owe her," Draco whispered back.

"Albus, darling," Rita was saying, "I do have an invitation."

When Dumbledore looked at him, Draco nodded his head. "I apologize if I am out of line, Professor. I've been reading the Daily Prophet. About the school. I thought it wouldn't hurt to have something good to read."

You can tell a lot about someone by the look on their face. Albus Dumbledore's face spoke volumes. The smile didn't fade. The eyes gave nothing away. He simply turned back and said, "In that case, welcome. I assume you know the reason for this meeting. We will be gathering in the antechamber in a few minutes."

Rita gave Draco an avaricious smile. "Thank you for the timely owl. And I never asked. Did my help actually help?"

Draco's lip curled. "The target was promoted to copy editor."

Rita's gold teeth flashed as she barked a laugh. "A death trap for the ego."


Draco sat on the stool that was normally used for the sorting ritual. He had his guitar in hand and was making sure it was tuned. Ludo Bagman was standing next to him, proud that his young partner had been the one to uncover the secret. A few feet away was the table with the four silver chalices sitting all in a row. Professor McGonagall was using her wand to spell the cups full with water. Hermione and the remaining three champions stood by the cups to listen for the telltale words. Behind them stood the Heads of the different schools, Professor Duracam representing Salem. There were also the miscellaneous guests. Professor Sprout. Justin. The Weasley twins. Charlie Weasley. The French girl that Victor had taken to the Yule Ball. And Rita Skeeter.

Draco started by hitting the C note so that everyone knew what to listen for. He couldn't hear but all four at the table were nodding to each other. When Angelina told him they were ready, the thought went through his mind that Every Good Boy Deserves Favor. He strummed an A.

"The," Angelina Johnson said. He strummed again and she said, "four"

Draco told her the note. He moved his fingers on the fret and strummed a B. No one said anything. He knew his cup resonated to C so his next was D. Again, nothing. When he hit an E, Viktor Krum said, "Voods". The second time he said, "Go."

Draco strummed the next note, F, and nodded when Fleur said, "To." The second word was "You."

The question arose as to which cup they should listen to first, now that they knew what notes to play. Professor Sprout pointed out that when she first listened to the words from Draco's cup, the first four words were 'dark, must, be, be'. It seemed clear that each cup would give its word in turn. The only question remaining would be in which order.

Fleur Delacour smiled. "Mine iz ze first cup." She explained that Draco was not the only musical student. She played the flute, although she never thought to use the chalice to drink out of. The order of the cups should be obvious. "Eet iz to save face."

Charlie Weasley laughed. "I'll bet anything she's right." When Fred and George gave him a quizzical look, he laughed again. "It's music. You know Every Good Boy Deserves Favour? The lines on the music sheets. And the spaces spell FACE." He then suggested his brothers should date someone who knows music. George said he preferred someone who knew Quidditch.

The last problem was solved by Rita Skeeter, the one person that no one (except Draco) wanted there. She offered her Quick Quotes Quill to write down the words as everyone spoke them. Copies could then be made for whoever wanted one.

Draco began to play the four notes in order, repeating them in a slow but steady rhythm. As he did so, each student spoke out loud the word that came from their particular cup. Draco's personal thought was that the best word for the poem was "cheesy".

To the dark woods / You four must go / Haste would be good / Do not be slow

The task you seek / Your prize to claim / If you would reach / The road to fame

A bronze coin droll / A to-ken dear / To pay the toll / First fight your fear

By the time Ludo Bagman called everyone to order so that he could read the poem as one set piece, Draco had already put his guitar away. He was standing next to Rita Skeeter, and the refreshments table, as the recital began. He dared to ask if the poem was as bad as it sounded. Rita commented that Bagman had no ear for music or poetry. They were lucky it rhymed, mostly. She told him she would rewrite some of the words and present it as prose. At least the readers won't have to suffer.

Rita wished Draco a good night and quickly left so she would not have to listen to the poem a second time. Draco drank the bottle of butterbeer as Bagman finished the third, and thankfully last, stanza.


The trip back to the common room was not as exciting as the trip down. Professor McGonagall dared to ask what they thought of the quality of the poem. Hermione said it was nice. Fred and George nodded and said they agreed. Angelina looked at Draco to see if he knew what was going on. Draco shrugged his shoulders.

"Mister Malfoy?" McGonagall was looking at him. "Could I ask your honest appraisal?"

Draco felt a sense of fear flow through him. It first told him that the best thing he could do would be to say nothing. And then it said that saying nothing was probably the worst thing he could do. He took option C. He said something that didn't answer the question at all.

"I was told that Ludo Bagman wrote it."

Draco's mind screamed at him as it made the connection. Rita Skeeter said it. The man had no ear for poetry. He couldn't write anything to say his life. Therefore, he must have asked someone else to write it for him. He felt the fear turn to dread. Someone was now insisting he tell what he honestly thought.

"As soon as he began reading it, I knew that couldn't be true." He looked up and asked, innocently, "Did you write it, Professor?"

No one was moving. Not even a sound in the air. Peeves was nowhere near to create a much wanted disturbance. And Draco, the biggest liar in the school, was being asked to tell the truth.

"Um." That word bought him five extra seconds. "Well," Draco's mouth went dry, "the internal rhyme scheme doesn't work except in the last stanza, and that one seems forced. The second stanza seems completely useless. And the last line doesn't have anything to do with the subject at all. It seems like it was tagged on just to finish the poem off." He paused as he tried to figure out something nice to say. He ended up with, "I know I've read worse, I just can't remember when."

Professor McGonagall smiled at him. "Thank you, Mister Malfoy, for confirming my thoughts. It seems I have inherited the family talent, after all."

"Talent?" Hermione had to ask.

"Yes, Miss Granger, having a talent is not always a good thing. Such as a talent for getting into trouble, or a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The members of my family have a talent for writing bad poetry." She added as a final explanation. "I finally had a chance to see if that was still true."


Walburga Black was the fourth person to notice the change in Draco. It was during his weekly Sunday visit. He had missed the previous week because of a meeting. And now he was proudly explaining how he had unraveled the Secret of the Silver Chalices. She listened politely. Once he had finished, he asked what she thought.

"Draco, when last I saw you, you would have been beaming ear to ear as you told your story. Do you remember the number of times I've told you how much like Regulus you are? I've seen Regulus when he acted the same way that you are acting now. A few weeks later, he was dead."

"I'm not Regulus," Draco replied.

"You must try to sound convincing when you say that." After a short silence, she added in an emotional tone, "What would I do if you were gone?"