Chapter Text
The start of a new year at Hogwarts always followed the same procedure; The students would arrive on the Hogwarts express, sit down in the Great Hall and listen while the first years were sorted into one of the four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin.
The Great Hall looked rather elegant tonight. The usual four long tables were draped in the colours of their houses, gold dinnerware laying empty, waiting for the signal to be filled with all sorts of food and drink. Floating candles took the shape of chandeliers along each of the four tables, casting the room in a warm, homely glow. For a lot of the students here, Hogwarts became more of a home than anywhere else.
That includes Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year Slytherin. He had grown taller over the summer, as did many of the teenage boys in Hogwarts. His skin was frighteningly pale, his face pointed and angular. Draco's hair was the colour of white gold but is often mistaken for being white due to how light it is. It accents his pale blue eyes perfectly.
Draco is seated at Slytherin's table, barely paying attention to the pockets of conversation. The sorting ceremony was finally over. It felt so much longer than the other countless ceremonies he had sat through, including his own. It must be the fact that he's so hungry all of a sudden. Draco hadn't eaten this morning, he had overslept mistakenly and had to choose between eating and looking proper for school. His father, Lucius Malfoy, chose for him of course, insisting he combed through his bedraggled hair and ironed his robes.
He sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair sleepily. He wouldn't be surprised if he fell asleep before the feast begins. Crabbe and Goyle sit at either side of him, dragging their forks over the empty plates impatiently. They seemed to be discussing what they'd eat first. Draco would've made fun of them if he wasn't so hungry himself.
Draco lifted his head as he heard Dumbledore finally stand, taking his place at the front of the Great Hall behind a gold lectern. He raises his hands and all of the students fall silent.
"I have only two words to say to you." He announces, his deep voice echoing off the walls. Draco prepares himself for something stupid to come from the headmaster's mouth, and he wasn't disappointed. "Tuck in."
The plates in front of him fill with foods of all kinds. Crabbe and Goyle have already managed to take huge fistfuls of four-cheese macaroni and begin eating it. Draco begins to do the same, taking a couple of slices of turkey and dousing it in hot, brown gravy.
The Great Hall fell into a sleepy silence as all of the students from each house finished their full plates. Draco was satisfied and now sleepier than ever. He leans back into his chair, watching intently as the headmaster got up and stood at the lectern once more.
"So," The headmaster begins as Draco shuts his eyes. It was going to be the same thing the old fool said every year.
'The forbidden forest is off-limits, Mr. Filch hates all of you and Harry Potter is our saviour. Round of applause for the golden boy.' Draco mocks bitterly in his head, the contempt for the boy growing with every thought.
'So the Dark Lord killed his filthy parents. Big deal. It was chance, it could've happened to anyone.' He continues with a smug smile, his mind drifting carefully away from Hogwarts.
'He's only so famous because the Dark Lord allowed him to be. He's not special at all.'
A great bang snapped Draco from his daydream, making him sit upright. Walking down the Great Hall was a stranger in a black travelling cloak. His hair resembles a lion's mane and his face is riddled with scars from battles long defeated. But one thing caught Draco's attention. His eye. One was normal, brown and frankly boring. The other looked like it didn't belong at all. It was big and blue, swivelling in its socket. For a split second, the eye lands on Draco. His breath catches in his throat as he stares back into it, challenging it.
It looks towards the Gryffindor table next. Draco follows its gaze, seeing that it is now eyeing Harry. Because of course it would.
"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody." Dumbledore gestures to the man, who gives a nod and nothing more.
'Moody...' He's heard that name before. Most likely from his father. Draco continues to watch him take a long drink from the flask on his hip, making the face of a man who had just bitten into a lemon.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued, drawing everyone's eyes from Moody's wooden leg back to him, "We are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for a century."
Draco knew where this was going. He might've been the only student to know what it was. His father had told him weeks ago, of course. Lucius is part of the ministry and regularly informs his son on new regulations.
"It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year." Gasps of shock riddled with excitement flooded the Great Hall, followed by a fairly loud "You're JOKING!" from one of the Weasley twins. Draco could only guess which one, they both sound and look identical. Even the Slytherins and Ravenclaws, who were far quieter than the other two houses, were whispering excitedly to one another. Draco did none of this. Crabbe and Goyle beside him had no idea what the tournament even was.
"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago, as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry- Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang."
Draco's father had considered sending him to Durmstrang. He had heard rumours that they are more lenient with the dark arts there, perhaps even encouraged it.
"A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions would compete in three magical tasks. The tournaments were discontinued when the death toll mounted too high. There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament, none of which have been successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Co-operation and Magical Games and Sports have decided that the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger."
Of course, Dumbledore would dummy down the tournament. The mortal danger was the whole point, was it not?
Draco looks over to the Gryffindor table, staring at Harry. He would be entering the tournament to show off for sure. Draco would bet his life on it. It would be funny to watch Potter finally meet his match. Perhaps against him.
That brings Draco to the more important question. Would he himself enter the tournament?
Draco's smug smile falters for a moment. His father had told him to put his name into the goblet, regardless of the dangers it would pose to his son. Lucius hadn't even known that the tournament had been altered, he would've sent his son either way.
Draco doubts he'd be picked regardless, not with the famous Harry Potter entering as well.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," Dumbledore paused, making sure he had the entire school's attention. "the Heads of the participating school, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age- that is to say, seventeen years or older- will be allowed to put their names forward for consideration." Roars of outrage come from every table from underage students who had planned on submitting their names.
Malfoy, however, lets out a deep breath of relief. He couldn't enter at all. No need to worry. His father surely won't punish him for that. It's against the rules for him to enter the tournament. For one shining moment, he looks at Dumbledore with an immense amount of respect and gratitude.
This fades almost instantly.
This was it, the moment they've all been waiting for. All of the students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were seated in the Great Hall. The talking ceases immediately when Dumbledore stands, his hands gripping the golden lectern with an expression of excitement.
As far as Draco could tell, only one person from his own house actually entered- Cassius Warrington. Rumour has it that he had entered his name into the Goblet of Fire due to a dare, which explained why he had suddenly gone pale and looked as if he were about to faint. Draco doubts he would be picked either way. The Hufflepuff table is leaning all around Cedric Diggory, who is smiling rather handsomely as if he wasn't bothered by the whole thing. He has his money on Diggory for the Hogwarts champion. As for Durmstrang, he suspected Krum obviously. Draco had tried to talk to Krum before but was brushed aside as if he had no idea who he was. If Krum does get chosen, Draco would be glad to see him suffer.
Finally, Draco's eyes meet the Gryffindor table, where Harry Potter is staring up at Dumbledore in excitement. He heard no rumours about Potter putting in his name, which surprised him. Draco would've thought he would leap at any chance to prove himself to dear Albus Dumbledore, which is a fool's errand.
Harry must've realized he was being stared at. He was now staring right back into Draco's eyes, looking rather curious. Draco shakes himself out of it, popping his tongue out at the boy before turning his attention back to Dumbledore. He can see Harry whispering to Ron and that 'Mudblood' Granger, most certainly telling them that he had caught Draco staring.
"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber where they will be receiving their first instructions."
The entire Great Hall waited in baited silence until the blue flames licking the sides of the old cup turned bright red, sparks crackling out of it. A blackened piece of paper came swirling out of the Goblet, which Dumbledore caught.
"The champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore announced very clearly, his ancient eyes sweeping the crowds, "will be Viktor Krum."
Draco scoffs, admiring his own brilliance as Viktor Krum stands. Krum's classmates slap him on the back, cheering wildly. Karkaroff, Durmstrangs' headmaster, shouts at Viktor in pride.
Once again the Goblet of Fire danced into a red colour, showering the stone floor with golden sparks as another name flew out.
"The champion for Beauxbatons will be Fleur Delacour!" A very beautiful girl with silvery blonde hair rises from her table, her friends nodding in approval. Draco notices that two others who hadn't been chosen began to cry.
Suspense drew up in the Hogwarts students as the Goblet of Fire let out another slip of paper that is folded very neatly.
"The Hogwarts champion," He begins, smiling at all of his students widely. "is Cedric Diggory!!"
Draco scowls as the entire room erupts in cheering from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Cedric Diggory walks into the chamber with the other champions, smiling broadly. Draco leans back into his chair, rolling his eyes. He really doesn't understand why everyone loves Diggory so much.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore announces over the cheering, applauding the champions. "Well, now we have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real--"
Dumbledore stops mid-sentence, it becomes very clear why. The Goblet of Fire has swirled from blue to red once more, flickering ever higher as it spits out another piece of paper. Dumbledore catches it between his thumb and forefinger, his silver eyebrows narrowing. Draco watched intently, now sitting on the edge of his seat. This wasn't supposed to happen.
"Harry Potter." Dumbledore announces.
Everyone turns to Harry immediately, including Draco, who does so with a sinister snarl.
'Of course, he tricked the bloody thing.. How could he resist? Mr. Perfect Potter has to prove himself to his parents who are six feet under. What a pitiful display of--' Draco's thought process wanders back to the Goblet of Fire, which flickers into red flames again. Everyone turns back towards it. Harry has risen onto his feet, staring at the Goblet as if it were going to give him the answer to his life's questions. Gasps sound from the room as the Goblet pops with sparks, singeing some of the students as it comes down in a golden shower. Another piece of paper flies out, this one being the most charred and torn. Dumbledore lets this one fall delicately into his hand, afraid that it might disintegrate should he catch it. He adjusts his half-moon spectacles anxiously, looking back up to his students. His gaze falls onto the Slytherin table, catching Draco's wintry eyes.
"Draco Malfoy."