Atlas Malfoy and how history repeats itself

Part 28

I don't eat much, dreading what I already know is coming. It might be stupid, but I manage to convince McGonigal to walk me to the common room so I don't have to listen to the welcome back speech. On our way, McGonigal says, "You know about the Triwizard tournaments this year, don't you?"
"Yes Professor," I say, wincing as I walk up the stairs, "But after the finals this year of the world cup, I barely want to look at sporting matches anymore."
"Your leg is still messed up, isn't it?" She asks as we take a break to let me breathe. I nod and she says, "You didn't rest."
"No, I didn't," I groan, "But in my defence, I got knocked out by a death eater and I wasn't really planning on that either. Now, Igor Karkaroff is now at our school and really, after putting up with..."
"Yes, Miss Black?"
I shake my head and she says, "Are the death eaters waiting for he who must not be named to return to be powerful again?"
"They always have been." I say, sighing as McGonigal accio's over a walking stick. She says, "Have they got extra information now?"
I don't respond and head to bed. No point spouting theories.

"Alastor Moody." Moody snaps the next day, "I'm here because Dumbledore asked me to be. Now, I have some things to say before I even bother teaching."
Hermione looks over at me in horror and Moody says, "Atlas?"
I look up from my walking stick I was inspecting and say, "Yes, Professor?"
"Get out my classroom."
"What?" I scoff, "Sir? I had to set off earlier because my leg is killing me today and now you're kicking me out?"
"I am not having someone with an attitude in my class." He snaps. I say, "Sir, I only have an attitude because I am being unfairly kicked out a lesson without any proper reason."
"I don't like you, or your sorry excuse of a little talent. Like right now, your hair is distracting the whole class. You look like a death eater. I know you are trying to follow the Dark Lord, but no need to do it in my classroom."
I look at my hair and inwardly groan. My hair is like Bellatrix's again. I snap, "How many people were looking at me before you spoke to me?"
"You are paying more attention to your walking stick that me."
"I'M TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT ITS MADE OF? I'M THE ONE USING IT ANYWAY. I'VE DONE MY EXAMS. I DON'T NEED TO BE HERE?"
I can feel myself starting to cry, so I stand and walk out. Moody calls after me and I ignore him. I prefer the great hall anyway.

Hermione storms into the hall after the lesson ranting, "He did the unforgivable curses. And kicking you out was so out of order. I am so disgusted. Absolutely disgusted."
I don't respond, my eyes drawn to the goblet. Hermione rubs my arm and says, "Are you okay?"
"I'm angry."
Fred and George bound in, yelling about how they've 'done it'. Hermione tries convincing them otherwise, but talking to them is like trying to get an answer out of my walking stick. I walk off, out of the hall and I slowly stroll round outside. Krum storms into the hall, and out again in silence. Just as he walks out, he says, "Your walking stick is elegant."
"Thank you?"

It's quite a surprise, but I don't let myself think about it too much. I head back to the great hall in the evening for the champions announcement.
"Now, the moment you've all been waiting for! The champion for the Durmstrang Institute is..."
The flames of the goblet roar, spitting out a small, folded piece of parchment.
"Viktor Krum!"
There are cheers, but Hermione hisses, "Is it really a surprise?"
I shake my head as the clapping and screaming dies down. Krum walks to Dumbledore, shaking his hand and walking into a little room off to the side. Another piece of paper is spat out, this time folded into the shape of a flower. All the girls hold their breathe, but most of the boys seem to know its not them.
"The champion for Beauxbatons Academy is... Fleur Delacour!"
An army of girls squeal in delight. Fleur stands up, beaming, and does the exact same thing as Krum. Now, just for Hogwarts. The tension is awful, and Hermione hisses, "At least this is the last thing of the night."
"But it could be Fred or George. All we know is that they got beards; not that the goblet didn't accept their names."
I don't think she hears me. Dumbledore is dragging it out for the suspense now. He says, "For Hogwarts... CEDRIC DIGGORY."
There are screaming cheers and Dumbledore says, "We now have our three champions! But in the end, only one will go down in history! The Triwizard Cup!"
I get up to leave, as another piece of Parchment is spat out the goblet. Hermione pulls me back down and Dumbledore says, "Harry Potter."
I gasp and Harry shakily stand up. There are boos and I yell, "YOU'LL BE OKAY HARRY!"
But he wont be. He hasn't got a choice whether to compete. He isn't seventeen. They can't force him to do this.

We file out the hall, and I'm stopped by a Beauxbatons girl.
"Bonjour. Savez-vous où se trouve la bibliothèque?"
"A gauche, juste là-bas." I smile and walk off, growing ever more shaky. Hermione holds my arm as I walk up the stairs until we are in our dorm, where I get into my pyjamas and sit in bed. I watch as Hermione paces up and down, saying, "Harry isn't going to compete. I mean, how did his name get in the goblet? He's only fourteen years old. He's a child."
She turns to me, expecting for answers and I say, "I'm still angry at Mad-eye. If I even sit and contemplate the thought of Harry putting his life at risk over some stupid games, I think i'll explode. Anyway, I think my leg will be good by tomorrow, which is lucky enough. I've heard there is a ball, and I'm planning on going dateless."
"Dateless?"
"Night Mines."
"Night Atti. You confuse me."