Draco Malfoy and the Goblet of Fire (BOOK 4 of 7)

Chapter 6-Dark Times Approach

Draco visited the owlery in hopes of solitude. Thankfully there was no one there. Suddenly, something bit him.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, shaking his index finger which had a large cut. He looked around and saw a brown barn owl circling him with a letter in its beak. The bird dropped the letter onto Draco's head.

He picked it up and opened it. It was from Sirius.

Draco,

We need to talk, face to face. Meet me in the Slytherin common room at one-thirty this Saturday night, and make sure you're alone.

Sirius.

P.S. The bird bites.

Now he tells him.

What did Sirius need to say to him? "Thanks again for saving my life?" "I'm currently planning to kill some Death Eaters?" "How's being a wolf working out for you?"

He shoved the letter into his pocket and sent the owl on its way.

__________________________________

It was one-twenty. Draco plopped down into an armchair by the fireplace. He'd burnt the letter when he'd gotten back from the owlery the other day.

On the table next to the armchair, there was a copy of The Daily Prophet. Draco picked it up and read the title on the first page: Twelve-year-old boy to compete in Triwizard Tournament.

Draco scoffed--Potter was fourteen--and read the article.

Harry Potter, a mere boy of twelve, has somehow entered himself in the Triwizard Tournament, the age restriction for which is seventeen. He is about to compete against three students, not only vastly more emotionally mature than himself, but who have mastered spells that he wouldn't attempt in his dizziest daydreams. But then, of course, he's no ordinary boy of twelve. More than a decade ago, Mr. Potter's parents were murdered by none other than You-Know-Who himself. His entire life, Harry has been brought up by Muggles who treat him like the dirt on the bottom of their shoes. His eyes glistened with the ghost of his past as he admitted that it was the trauma of his past that made him so keen to enter such a dangerous tournament. When asked how his parents would feel if they were alive, he says, choking back tears, "Proud, perhaps. Or maybe more concerned that my attitude shows, at best, a pathological need for attention; at worst, a psychotic death wish." Turn to page four for the complete story.

Draco choked back his own tears of hysteria; the article was so stupid! He tossed the paper into the fire and relaxed.

Cough, cough.

"What was that?" Draco asked himself as he pulled out his wand. He slowly crept up to the fireplace and gaped at it as Sirius's head emerged.

"What the-"

"I don't have much time, Draco, so I'll get straight to it. Harry didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire."

"Which means...?"

"Which means that someone in this building is trying to kill Harry. Now can you think of a reason why someone would want to do that?"

"I can think of plenty. He's annoying, arrogant, daft-"

"Serious reasons!"

"Okay, uh, he's hated by Voldemort who couldn't defeat the godforsaken one-year-old?"

"Precisely."

"So you're saying that Voldemort's in the castle?"

"Not him. I don't believe that he is strong enough. However, there are others. Look, the Death Eaters at the World Cup, Harry's name rising from the goblet, these aren't just coincidences. Hogwarts isn't safe anymore."

"What are you saying?"

"The devils are inside the walls. Igor Karkaroff, he was a Death Eater. And no one, no one stops being a Death Eater. Then there's Barty Crouch- heart of stone- sent his own son to Azkaban."

"Do you think one of them put Potter's name in the goblet?"

"I haven't a clue who put his name in that Goblet, but whoever did is no friend to him. People die in this tournament."

"So if they're no friend to Potter, they're a friend to me?"

"Perhaps not to you, but an associate of your father's. Now, I'm not trying to imply anything-"

"I know. I understand."

"Anyways, I just spoke to Harry. He said he had a dream. Voldemort was in a chair and in front of him were Wormtail and another man he couldn't identify. An old Muggle man approached the room the others were in, and Nagini, Voldemort's snake, told her owner that the man was there. Voldemort then killed the man. Now, I've told Harry that this is just a dream, but I think it has actually happened."

"Wait, that wouldn't be the Muggle caretaker?"

"What?"

Draco explained his father's little episode before saying, "This is why I decided to go around Muggle London without telling anyone. Just to get away. Anyway, I found some Muggle newspapers and started reading them, you know, to blend in. In it, a gardener called Frank Bryce was mentioned. He had been killed recently, but no one knew why or how. Apparently, he was the Riddles' gardener."

"Draco, you have just provided me with extremely valuable information. I will be informing Dumbledore of this."

"Alright."

"Now, remember. Hard times are coming. You must keep your friends close and your true enemies closer and fooled."

There were footsteps.

"Someone's coming!" Draco whispered.

"Exercise caution!" Sirius replied before leaving. Draco quickly sat down on the armchair again.

Soon, Pansy appeared. "I thought I heard something."

"It's just me," Draco replied, gazing at the fire. "Couldn't sleep."

"Me either." She came over and sat down across from him. "What do you think will happen?"

"Hmm?" Draco looked up.

"I can tell that dark times are ahead. Don't tell me that you don't know that your father was an attacker at the World Cup."

"I know that very well," Draco said, gritting his teeth.

"Good. Then you should also know that You-Know-Who is getting stronger."

"Yes. And your point is?" Draco felt frustrated when Sirius's words came back to him.

Keep your friends close.

"Sorry, Pansy, I'm just a bit frustrated."

"I understand. Hopefully, this trouble won't last long." She got up from the sofa and headed towards the girls' dorms. "See you tomorrow, er, I guess in about six hours."

"See you," Draco said, closing his eyes and sighing. Was there any hope left?

He pushed that thought out of his head and forced himself to rise. He dragged himself to his room and threw himself onto his bed.

A/N: There has been some confusion as to why Harry is 12 in the article. He is 14, but Rita Skeeter writes that he is 12 because she's Rita Skeeter and thinks she's so great.

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