different | h. potter

2

Cassia and the Malfoy family arrived on the grounds of the Quidditch World Cup a little after 7 o'clock. They checked into the campsite, Lucius not even bothering to hide his sneer at the muggle site manager, and made their way towards a stretch of grass with a small sign in front saying Malfoy. With a lazy flick of his wand, Lucius set up an extravagant looking black tent and stepped inside, Narcissa following behind him. Draco and Cassia glanced at the tent and back at each other skeptically; neither of them had ever been camping.

"Ladies first," Draco said teasingly, giving a mock bow.

"If you wanted to go first, you could've just said so," Cassia snorted.

Draco rolled his eyes and gave his friend a gentle shove. Together, the two of them ducked through the entrance of the tent.

Compared to most tents, theirs was far more advanced. The interior was decorated in a manner that resembled their home greatly: dark and luxurious. It was fully furnished, equipped with proper rooms, and complete with a functioning fireplace. This was no tent, but rather a portable manor.

After unpacking and settling down, the four of them lounged around the sitting room in silence, unsure of how to preoccupy themselves until the match started.

"Draco, why don't you and Cassia go have a look at the merchandise?" Lucius suggested, though it sounded more like an order, "You may meet up with your friends, if you'd like."

"Yes, father," Draco nodded. He stood up from the couch and held his hand out to Cassia; his parents had always insisted on him be a gentleman.

"When would you like us to return, Mr. Malfoy?" Cassia asked, graciously taking Draco's hand and standing up next to him.

"You may stay out until it is time for the match," Lucius replied. His tone suggested that he wanted them out of the tent until such time.

"Stay together and enjoy yourselves," Narcissa said, failing to mask her slight discomfort with a tight lipped smile. The cause of her unease was unclear to Cassia and Draco, as they shared a confused looked.

The duo had exited the tent and set off in search of their friends. The first that they ran into was Blaise Zabini, a tall, handsome, dark boy who belonged to their year and house at Hogwarts. His trademark charm was something he shared with his mother, an exceptionally beautiful witch who has been widowed several times, all under mysterious circumstances, leaving them with copious amounts of money. Next was Theodore Nott, again, from Slytherin house and their year at school. Much like Draco and Blaise, he was quite tall, and he had brown hair and a thin build. Cassia kept an eye out for Pansy Parkinson, another close friend, but to no prevail; she must have still been on vacation with her family.

The four teenagers wandered around the campsite, chatting happily, eventually coming to the merchandise area. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries which played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts, which really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves. They had even spotted a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except they were covered in all sorts of weird knobs and dials - Omnioculars.

"What would you like?" Draco asked Cassia, pulling a pouch of coins out of his coat pocket.

"Oh no, Draco, you don't have to," she quickly declined his offer, "I can get them myself, really-"

"-You know my parents would have a fit if I let you buy anything for yourself," he countered.

"Aw, that's our Draco," Blaise teased, "Always the gentleman."

"And they say chivalry is dead," Theo feigned sentimentality, placing a hand over his heart dramatically.

Draco merely glared at the two boys in response.

Soon enough, evening had fallen and it was nearly time for the match. Bidding their friends farewell, Draco and Cassia made their way back to their tent. Almost immediately after walking through the entrance, they had to depart once, this time towards the stadium.

Mr and Mrs Malfoy in the lead, they followed the lantern-lit trail through the wood until they emerged on the other side. There, stood a gigantic stadium, built to seat a hundred thousand, with brilliant gold walls surrounding the pitch.

After a lengthy climb up the purple carpeted staircase, they finally reached the small box at the very top of the stadium, exactly halfway between the golden goalposts. The high altitude provided them with a spectacular view of the pitch, better than any other seat in the stadium. All but a few of the purple and gilt chairs in the second row were occupied.

"... ah, and here's Lucius!" said a male voice. The owner of the voice was none other than Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic.

"Ah, Fudge," said Lucius, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister for Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco? Or perhaps even Cadmus' daughter, Cassia?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

The tension was almost suffocating. Mr Malfoy's cold grey eyes swept over Mr Weasley, and then and down the row. Cassia mimicked his actions and finally took notice of the other guests in the Top Box. Arthur Weasley was there, along with his gang of red-headed children. Cassia recognized a fair few of them from school; Ron, Fred, George, Ginny, and even Percy. Accompanying them were Ron's best friends, Hermione Granger, a girl with rather large front teeth and big puffy brown hair, and Harry Potter, a skinny boy with bright green eyes, messy black hair, and a notable lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Cassia was quite familiar with the trio's antics, since they had declared themselves Draco's - and, consequently, her - sworn enemies ever since their first year at Hogwarts.

"Good Lord, Arthur," Mr Malfoy said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How - how nice," said Mr Weasley, with a very strained smile. Behind him, the rest of the Weasleys and their guests showed less subtle signs of displeasure, narrowing their eyes, clenching their jaws, or balling their hands into fists.

Mr Malfoy's eyes had returned to Granger, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him. Priding himself on being a pureblood, Lucius was no doubt regarding her muggle heritage with a feeling of superiority. However, under the gaze of the Minister for Magic, he didn't dare say anything. Lucius nodded sneeringly to Mr Weasley, and continued down the line to his seats. Draco shot Harry, Ron and Hermione a contemptuous look, then settled himself next to his father. Cassia followed closely, briefly glancing at the trio with a blank expression, and sat down on Draco's other side, next to Narcissa.

"Everyone ready?" said Ludo Bagman, head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, charging into the box.

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat and said 'Sonorus!' and then spoke over the roar if sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands: "Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

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a/n: hehe first mention of harry!! may the slowburn begin...