Chapter Text
The air was growing with excitement, it felt like you could reach out and touch it. if Harry thought school Quidditch matches could fill the Great Hall was glee and anticipation, than what the Quidditch World Cup produced was something he could only dream of. He wondered how Sirius would feel about this, if Wormtail had been caught and turned in or if the Minister had just decided to try and take their word for it and gotten Sirius a proper trail to be free. Harry knew his dad was on the Gryffindor team and Lupin had mentioned Sirius was also part of the team, the pair Chasers. He even got his Firebolt from Sirius and his very first kid broom. Sirius loved Quidditch and not for the first time, Harry wished he was here to experience it. he knew his last letter didn’t inspire much, even without mentioning the dream, the nightmare with Voldemort, so he tried to absorb everything so he could give him a detailed description of it. the lanterns casted everything in an almost Christmasy glow with the red and green, it just missed the snow that would fall from the Great Hall’s enchanted ceiling and the eriey sound of the ghosts singing carols. Instead, he was surrounded by the loud noise of people walking through the forest to get to the stadium. It was finally starting to poke out of the trees and the sight of it, it almost made him wish for a camera like Colin would lug around.
“Seats a hundard thousand. Ministry task force of five hundard have been working on it all year. Muggle repelling Charms on every inch of it.” Mr. Weasly explain as they joined a line where ushers were checking tickets.
“Prime Seats!” the ministry witch announced, handing them back to Mr. Weasly and pointing upward. “Top box! Straight up, high as you can go Arthur.”
“Thanks Kathlieen. This way!”
They clambered upward, the amount of steps made mildly better with the plush purple carpet under their feet. Finally they arrived, walking into a small box with about 20 chairs, all lined in the same shade of purple. They shuffled into their seats, taking everything in when Harry became distracted by the shaking house elf sitting behind them. the conversation with Winky made him glad he’d freed Dobby, even if the house elf didn’t seem to agree. Ron and Harry messed with their Omnioculars while Hermonie devoured her program, short as it was. They were perodically interrupted by wizards and witches who arrived in the box that Mr. Weasly seemed to know and Percy was insistant on making an impression as a Jack-in-the-box with how often he sprang up. While there were those who counldn’t stop staring at the scar on his forehead when introduced to him, there was thankfully those, who just smiled and shook his hand. Percy finally decided to stay seated after embaressing himself in front of the UK Minister of Magic. The Minister shook Harry’s hand in a fatherly fashion, asking how he was. He didn’t know how to feel about the Minister. He was never rude or mean to him, just made some rather poor decisions in Harry’s opinion, like arresting Hagrid with no proof he was the Heir of Slytherin or sending Sirius to Azkaban without a trail which could of led Harry to live a different life or not even giving them a chance to prove Peter Petegrew was alive and a follower of Voldemort. He’d assumed Harry and Hermonie were just kids and was ready to have the Demontors Kiss Sirius.
“This is the Bulgarian Minister of Magic. Uh, oh. His English isn’t very good. This is, uh,” the Minster seemed to struggle with introducing Harry without being rude and shouting English at him. “Harry Potter…oh, come on now, you know who he is…the boy who survived You-Know-Who… you do know who he is-” Harry was about to push his fringe back to make matter easier but the Bulgarian Minister noticed it first, pointing and speaking loudly to those in his party who’d also followed the Minister when he arrived. “Knew we’d get there in the end. I’m no great shakes at langauges; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing.”
As if to prove this, the Blugarian Minsiter asked him something, looking expentatly. Harry never thought he’d seen the Minister go so still before, like his whole body was stalling. Harry watched him stutter over his words before he heaved a sigh of relief. “Lucius! There you are.”
Lucius Malfoy, followed by a woman who had to be his wife, were making their way to the three still empty seats situated behind Mr. Weasly.
“Ah, Fudge. How are you? Do you remember my wife, Narcissa?”
The woman was blonde, nearly as tall as her husband, though that could have been the heels peaking out from her dress robes, fitted to her body. The dark green looked nearly black and if it wasn’t for the sneer on her face as she glanced in the direction of the Weasly clan, she would of looked stunning.
“Of course. I don’t suppose your son is close by? He attends Dumstrang yes?”
The question that the Blugrain Minister had asked clearly left his mind as he brightened at the sound of the name. he said something to Mr. Malfoy involving the name and the man responsible for sending Voldemort’s dairy into Hogwarts puffed out his chest replying in accented Bulgarian. “Draco will be up momentarily. He knows a member of the team and went to wish him good luck.” He said the Fudge.
Feeling Ron stiffen, he turned to him, sitting back down at the sight of glower on his face. “What is it? what’s wrong? Is it Malfoy?” he asked quietly. The man had put Ginny, Ron’s only sister, in danger in only her first year.
“Not that one. The other one. Draco Malfoy.”
Harry blinked. He didn’t know Lucius Malfoy had a kid. He had vauge memories of Lucius talking to someone when he was entering Borgin and Burkes the summer before his second year before Malfoy appeared at Flourish and Boltts and if he thought hard enough, the name mentioned might have been Draco, but other than that, he had zero clue why Ron would be upset.
“What did he do? Was he a…follower?” Hermonie asked.
Ron looked at her like she was crazy. “Course they’re followers of him. You make it sound like he’s years older than us. He’s our age. He was supposed to enter Hogwarts with us but he went to that place instead. Drumstrang. Heard they teach Dark Magic there.”
“According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts.” Hermonie recited. Harry decided not to ask why she knew that information. “It’s the second largest wizarding school in Europe. They have a rivalery with Hogwarts, along with another school. Beauxbatons.”
Ron interrupted her before she could continue. “I met the git at a Ministry event, back when I was a kid. He was rude and stand offish and yelled at me for no reason before calling me a blood traitor. Mum told me who he was after his mother dragged him off. We all knew about Malfoys and I was dreading it when I found out we were the same age. Bumped into each other before first year and somehow, he was even worse. Looked at me like I was the dirt on his shoe. Can’t believe we have to spend the game with him right there.”
“Oh Ron, just ignore him. If he’s anything like the Slytherins, he won’t say anything with this company around.” Hermonie said, rolling her eyes a little. Normally Harry would be right there with him, hating the guy on principle, but it kinda seemed like they just exchanged insults and never interacted more than a few minutes.
“Hermonie, he’s a bully. He’s worse than those slimy snakes!”
“Ah, there he is. Draco, come say hello to the Minister.” Mr. Malfoy’s voice rose.
Standing in the doorway of the Top Box, was a teen, about their age. He had the same pale skin, pointy features and pale blonde hair his father had, though his eyes were a softer grey, matching his mother’s. strangly, he was in muggle clothes, slacks and a button down to match the above airs his family had. His blazer was a dark red and unbuttoned, allowed Harry to see the lining. It had the same lion that was on the Bulgarian scarfs that had been for sale outside. He joined his parents, pushing his blonde hair out of his face as his mother smoothed the lapels of his blazer down.
“Wish you worn something else.” He managed to overhear.
“I lost a bet, I didn’t have a choice.” He said, his voice posh before smiling at the Minister. “Minister Fudge. A pleasure as always.”
“And same to you. I hear you’ve been doing well at Durmstrang. Must be difficult with all the langauges. Don’t supposed your Balgarian is any good?”
Darco – because it was going to be confusing to think of both him and his father as Malfoy – turned to the Minister dressed in black and gold and Balgarian smoothly left his tougne as he bowed, shaking the hand he was given. While he had yet to see the snobbish bully Ron described, he was very clearly a Malfoy. Interacting with the uperclass was childsplay for him.
“The Minister says you’ve been a great host and he’s enjoyed getting to try English dishes through your wife’s cooking. He hopes you’ll repay the favour by letting him feed you Balgarian food. In my opinon, you should try shkembe. A bit off putting once you know what it’s made of, but very good in my opinion.” Draco translated.
“Oh, well of course.” Fudge said, looking a bit lost at trying to figure out what shkembe could even be. “Ah, my boy, I take it you haven’t met the Weasleys? They would have been your classmates. I’m sure your father has mentioned Arthur.”
Grey eyes glanced at them, a small smirk growing on his face. The tension rose as they noticed it matched the one of Malfoy’s face, though Malfoy Sr looked more cruel.
“I have actually, of sorts. I have friends at Hogwarts. Pleasure to see you again though. And you two are…?”
Well at least he wasn’t sneering.
“Good lord, you have been out of the country too long. Why that’s Harry Potter.”
“Ah, Gryffindor’s golden boy. Which I suppose makes you Hermione Granger. Blaise and Pansy have mentioned you quite often. And, Ronald wasn’t it? Just, I thought Pansy said it was Weasel. Must of misheard.”
Nevermind. He was good, the Minsiter didn’t even notice the subtle insults and the tension growing higher. Harry kept a tight grip on Ron’s arm as Ludo Bagman came running through the door. It distracted everyone enough for everyone to find their seats, Ron grumbling as the British Minister gave the all clear to get started.
He felt aware of Draco, more than he expected. It didn’t help that when the Veela came onto the field and he realised what he’d been about to do in hopes of getting their attention, he heard muffled laughter behind him. Glancing back, he saw grey eyes squinting at him in delight as Draco covered his mouth. His shaking shoulders made it clear what he thought though. Harry felt his entire face turn red as he sat himself down. when the Leprechauns showered them with gold, Draco dusted the pieces off him, not bothering to look at thw Weasleys who scrambled for them. when Krum came onto the field, there was this proud look on his face, but maybe that was because Draco knew the same language of the team the young seeker was on. at least, that’s what he thought.
In the gruling match that involved learning about the Wronski Feint, Lynch crashing twice, Veela showing their true forms and Krum ending the match with Ireland’s win, not to mention figuring out the Bulgarian Minster actually spoke and understood English, the teams came to shake hands with the ministers, Bulgaira first. When Krum was close enough, black eyes and still covered in blood, Draco cupped his hands and yelled, “Good show Vitya!”
Unlike the scowl he’d been wearing the whole time, Krum glared at Draco, his ears oldly red and before shaking his minster’s hand, he flipped Draco off. While his mother seemed displeased, Draco only laughed and replied in the same, not even bothered by his mother slapping his shoulder.
“How the bloody hell does he knew Krum?” Ron asked as the Ireland team arrived to shake hands and accept their trophy.
“His father knows our minister. Maybe a Quidditch player isn’t that far off. It’s odd though. I thought Vitya was a Russian way of saying Viktor.” Hermione said.
Harry spotted Draco’s face light up with knowing something Hermione didn’t before turning to his parents.
“I’m going to meet him at the team tents. I can still stay the night right?”
“I have half a mind-” Mrs. Malfoy started before her husband interrupted her.
“Yes, go on. we’ll collect you in the morning. We’ll be meeting with associates while we have the chance.”
Draco smirked at Ron’s glare as he disappeared into the crowd of people leaving the box and that was the last he saw of Draco Malfoy, at least until October.