An American at Hogwarts: Book Two

Chapter Ten

I didn't look back as I cheerfully bounded up the stairs. Honestly, I could've done without ever meeting the older Malfoy, let alone meeting him while I was trying to enjoy the Quidditch World Cup. But, if I had no other choice, I was glad I could make such a... strong impression on him.

On top of that, I had just acquired a whole new level of sympathy for Draco. His dad was horrible, almost more so to him than to me and everyone else. Having a father like that would probably mess with anybody's head, especially when he didn't really get much exposure to other, better ways of behaving. He just surrounded himself with people who acted exactly the same as his father at Hogwarts.

I would've felt bad for punching him last year, if he hadn't been bullying my friend.

I all but sprinted up the last few steps, putting the Malfoys firmly out of my mind so I could just enjoy this experience. I wasn't even winded when I reached the top booth, and I said yet another thank you to Nat and Clint in my head.

Fred and George had saved a seat for me, and I plopped down in a plush purple chair with Fred on my left and Harry on my right.

"Did I miss anything?" I asked, leaning over to Fred and George.

"Just Percy jumping all the way out of his seat every time someone walked through the door," joked George.

"Ha! So I didn't miss a thing."

"Nope," Fred confirmed, looking past me to where Percy was sitting, closer to the aisle. I followed his gaze to see the Weasley in question jumping out of his seat right on cue, exactly like the twins said.

I turned to see just who he was so excited about, and even I recognized the man who'd walked in. It was Cornelius Fudge, the British Minister of Magic.

Percy, bless his heart, made a bit of a fool of himself in front of the Minister. He sat down quietly, his face beet red as Fudge moved on to Harry. Percy looked extremely jealous as Fudge engaged Harry in casual conversation, but I knew what was really going on.

Fudge had the Bulgarian Minister with him, and Harry was a wizarding world celebrity. Fudge wanted to make a big show of being close with Harry, having Harry in his personal booth and striking up a pleasant conversation like they were old friends.

I'd lost track of how many times politicians had done the same thing with my dad.

The Bulgarian Minister said a few things to his companions that made me confident he understood English, but he certainly wasn't telling Fudge that. The British Minister of Magic was apparently under the impression that his Bulgarian counterpart didn't understand a word he was saying. Fudge spent quite a bit of time gesturing and repeating Harry's name trying to tell the Bulgarian Minister who Harry was.

The Bulgarian Minister pretended to have an 'ah-ha' moment, then turned around to chuckle at Fudge's antics with his companions.

I debated telling Fudge the Bulgarian Minister was just messing with him, but eventually I decided against it. It would involve a lot of explaining and introducing and trying to establish my credibility, especially if the Bulgarian Minister refused to give up the joke, and I just wanted to watch and enjoy the match.

Besides, I kind of wanted to wait to show the wizarding world the full extent of what I could do. Not only was it fun to have a shock factor, like when I showed the twins my sling portals last year, but Natasha and Clint had taught me to preserve the element of surprise as long as possible, and to use it to my advantage whenever I could.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," Fudge sighed in relief once the Bulgarian Minister pointed to Harry's scar and finally took his meaning. He kept talking to Harry, and only Harry, until someone else came into the booth and drew his attention. "Ah, and here's Lucius."

I turned around to see who the new arrival was, and surprise surprise, it was Draco and his father, walking to their seats right behind us. Because why wouldn't that happen?

What actually was a surprise was the woman accompanying them. The aloof but otherwise nice woman who'd pointed me to the stairs was evidently the Malfoy matriarch.

None of the Malfoys noticed me as Lucius introduced his wife and son to Fudge and the other assembled Ministry officials. I figured one of them would look over eventually, when they moved to their seats at the very least, so I just sat there watching, waiting for them to realize I was there. Lucius Malfoy especially.

After mentioning all the other Ministry officials around the room, Fudge came to Mr. Weasley.

"And let's see who else—you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

Mr. Weasley and Malfoy stared each other down, and everyone but, apparently, Fudge could feel the tension in the air between them. I knew Mr. Weasley would never do this, but if it were anyone else in his position—say, Steve, for example?—I would be getting ready for a fistfight to break out.

"Good lord, Arthur. What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box?" asked Lucius, speaking lowly, his voice dripping with false interest and sympathy. "Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

This time I almost reached across the seats and started a fistfight. Mr. Weasley didn't respond, since he was literally a saint, and Fudge didn't even notice Malfoy had said anything.

I was pissed, but I settled for making myself feel better by fixing Lucius with the most intimidating stare I could muster. He still hadn't noticed me yet, but he would soon enough.

"Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur," said Fudge, still completely oblivious.

"How— how nice," Mr.e Weasley managed.

Malfoy's eyes turned to Hermione. He was glaring at her for being muggle-born, although he wouldn't say it with Fudge around. Hermione, truly a Gryffindor, didn't break his stare, although she looked a bit uncomfortable and her ears were turning pink.

He gave a sneer and a nod to Mr. Weasley before continuing down the line to his seats. When he got about halfway there, his eyes finally met mine.

He covered it up well, but he couldn't completely hide the stutter and hesitation in his step right after he noticed me. He broke the staring contest first, not saying anything as he continued to his seats with his nose in the air. He sat down like nothing was wrong, but I still noticed the slight shift in his body language. He was uncomfortable.

Ha.

I didn't think anyone else noticed the difference in Malfoy, but apparently Harry did.

"What was that about?" he asked, leaning over to whisper to me with a slight nod in the direction of the Malfoys.

"I may have met him on my way up here, and I may have threatened him just a teeny tiny bit..." I answered.

Harry leaned back in shock and gave me a good long look, then he burst out laughing.

"You did?"

"I mean, in my defense, he very blatantly threatened me first. But yeah, I did. I did threaten him." Harry laughed again, and I smiled. We relaxed back into our seats as Bagman came bursting into the room, and I made a conscious effort to put the Malfoys out of my mind. I wasn't gonna let some asshole ruin this experience for me.

"Everyone ready?" called Bagman giddily, grinning with an excitement to rival Oliver's. "Minister—ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo."

With the go ahead from the Minister, Bagman whipped out his wand and magically magnified his voice so it rang throughout the stadium.

"Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

After all that waiting, it was finally time for the Quidditch World Cup to officially begin.