Carina Malfoy had spent the past several days trembling with mortification.
Never mind that she had been a ferret at the time—never mind that the hand stroking her from head to spine had felt so unbearably good that she had simply let her guard dissolve—how could she have done something like that?
When she thought about it properly, they had lain there tangled together for a full hour in front of other people. Ferret form or not, Carina found it nearly impossible to believe she had been in her right mind. Something must have gone wrong with her head when she transformed. That was the only explanation.
"Uuugh..."
Barnette Crabbe and Gray Goyle had been exchanging glances since yesterday, watching Carina with growing bewilderment. Goyle shrugged first.
"Let's not worry about it, Crabbe. It'll be something Potter-related again. She'll come back to herself before long."
"That's exactly why I want to know, Goyle! She went in to have it out with Professor Moody, and somehow Potter got involved—how does that even happen?! Next time I'm following her whether she likes it or not!"
"How are you so shameless about it."
"You're the one who's too squeamish! Aren't you even curious?"
"I am curious, but honestly it's gotten so excessive I'd rather keep my distance. How many years have they been at this now..."
Whatever her friends made of it, Carina continued to drift through her days in a state of flustered, weightless confusion—fretting over what expression she was supposed to wear when she saw Harry in the upcoming joint lesson with Gryffindor.
But the moment she saw what Hagrid had brought, managing her expression became the least of her concerns.
"Blast-Ended Skrewts! These are the creatures you'll be raising as your research project for the next year!"
The creatures lived up to their dreadful name in every possible way. They looked like armoured scorpions, their tails tipped with glowing red stingers, and they were so vicious they were already trying to kill one another.
When Hagrid cheerfully instructed them to leash one each and take it for a walk, Carina's expression curdled.
"Why exactly are we supposed to raise these?"
"It's interesting! Learning about new creatures is an essential part of Care of Magical Creatures, Malfoy!"
Carina's face soured further. She should have had him sacked last year, no matter what it took. Letting herself relax for even a moment because the lessons had seemed normal—that had been her mistake.
This was precisely why one should never put off unpleasant tasks.
"Try feeding them! I wasn't sure what they'd like, so I've prepared slugs, non-venomous snakes, and toad liver. Let's see how they eat!"
Carina wanted to point out that this was a wasted effort. As far as she could tell, these wretched creatures had no mouths whatsoever. They appeared to absorb fluids through suckers on their undersides—and they were currently fixated on ramming those suckers into each other's gaps.
"You want us to raise these horrible things? Have you lost your mind?"
"I told you! Learning about unfamiliar creatures is part of your education!"
"...Unfamiliar creatures? You're teaching creatures you don't know yourself?"
"Malfoy, I promise you! They may be a bit unusual, but they're not dangerous!"
"What are we even supposed to do with this knowledge? Slip one into someone's bed to assassinate them in their sleep?"
"We'll figure out their characteristics and uses as we go! I'm the professor here. Do as you're told!"
Even Hermione and Ron took Hagrid's side. Carina pulled on her dragonhide gloves with a face like frozen stone.
Gryffindor had forfeited any right to speak ill of Snape. Let them try.
Armed with that conviction, she kept the Skrewt at the greatest possible distance as she walked it.
"This ugly thing tried to bite me!"
Pansy Parkinson complained loudly.
"We'd be better off killing them all right now. They're small enough today, but if they grow—they could eat us on our walks!"
Meanwhile, Harry Potter had pulled on his dragonhide gloves and picked up a Skrewt with his bare hands. The moment its hard shell gave way to the soft exposed underbelly, the creature flailed its legs in frantic distress.
Harry thrust it toward Pansy without warning.
"The more you look at it, the cuter it gets. Boo."
"Stop that!"
Predictably, chaos erupted. Pansy tumbled to the ground and startled her own Skrewt. Goyle fled into Hagrid's hut with a look of pure revulsion. The Gryffindors laughed as though it were the funniest thing they'd ever seen—until a Skrewt turned toward one of them, at which point they scattered with identical expressions of horror.
Harry, still holding his Skrewt, began making his way toward Carina. She snatched up a stick and hurled it to block his approach. By chance, it struck the Skrewt's glowing red tail—and with a sharp bang, the tail exploded. Several students burst out laughing.
Hagrid's voice rang out.
"Ah! The Skrewts' tails explode, by the way. Do be careful!"
Carina made a decision. Care of Magical Creatures be damned—she wanted nothing more to do with a creature that stung, slashed, and detonated.
She was about to abandon the walk entirely and follow Goyle when something caught her eye.
Ron Weasley was walking his Skrewt with a group of students, wearing an expression of profound displeasure. But it wasn't the Skrewt he was unhappy about—it was Harry. He shot a brief, resentful glance at Harry, who was still acting perfectly cheerful despite the rift between them, then turned away.
Carina's gaze went quiet.
"Weasley. The penniless one."
Carina was waiting in the corridor Ron would have to pass through. He didn't look pleased to see her, but that was entirely irrelevant to her.
She spoke with unhurried condescension.
"This is why people ought to know their station. It's precisely why one avoids associating with those beneath them—a vessel this small makes for exhausting company... Though perhaps it isn't the poverty. It's the character. At least your twin brothers have scattered wits rather than this particular brand of smallness."
"Why you—!"
Being compared unfavourably to his brothers was the crack in Ron's armour. He flared up—then exhaled slowly.
"Right. I suppose people of such towering distinction naturally end up together. Secret romance under an Invisibility Cloak, birds of a feather—must be a lovely life."
This time it was Carina who faltered, just slightly. How on earth did Weasley know about the secret? Had Moody told him?
She couldn't begin to guess how he'd found out, but she composed herself regardless. Her emotional control around people she disliked was impeccable.
"Why—are you jealous of Harry, after all this time?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Weasley, but I wouldn't date you if someone held a Cruciatus Curse to my head."
Genuine disgust crossed Ron's face.
"What are you on about? Harry puts up with you because he's Harry. Anyone normal would be vomiting slugs."
"Yes. It's only natural that ordinary people like you can't manage me."
Half provocation, half sincerity. It was galling that Ron Weasley of all people had called her insufferable—but she let that pass for now.
There was something more important to say.
"But I didn't think you'd be too small-minded to spare even a little thought for your friend."
"Oh, very touching. Playing the girlfriend now, are we?"
The moment Carina mentioned Harry, Ron reacted as though she'd pressed a bruise.
"If you're so worried about him, why don't you comfort him yourself?" he shot back, face reddening. "Isn't that what girlfriends are for? Go ahead and fuss over him all you like—instead of me!"
"I would, if I could!"
Ron's temper ignited hers. She forgot entirely that she was supposed to be keeping secrets and raised her voice.
"You're in the same house, the same dormitory. You sleep in the next bed. You share every single class! I get a few minutes passing in a corridor, a little time during joint lessons, or once every few days if I'm lucky—and even then it's under an Invisibility Cloak, sneaking around!"
She caught herself and snapped her mouth shut. Fortunately, the corridor was empty. Carina pressed on, her voice sharp.
"Some of us can't even see him when we want to. You could be right there for him, and you're sulking over something this trivial—! He was out there today holding that Skrewt and forcing himself to laugh, and you didn't even look at him! If you won't help, then don't get in the way. He's already risking his life as it is—!"
"What? His life?"
"Figure it out yourself, you idiot! How long do you expect to be spoon-fed?!"
Carina's emotional control around people she disliked was thorough. The Weasleys were, without exception, people she disliked—but they were not quite enemies, either.
Ron Weasley was Harry's closest friend. He filled the spaces Carina couldn't reach, which made it impossible to simply resent him—and that was precisely why Harry needed Ron now more than ever.
It was too trivial, too tedious a task for her. But for Harry, who was out there staking his life on every move he made—she could do this much. As many times as it took.
"Don't you dare envy Harry, Weasley. The only thing you have to be proud of is that absurd number of family members—and you're welcome to feel as inferior to me as you like—but don't you dare be jealous of him."
Carina caught her breath and continued.
"...And whatever you think you know—don't breathe a word of it to anyone. If I hear you've been talking, I will use every means at my disposal to make your life a living hell."
With that threat delivered, she turned sharply on her heel and walked away. Ron stood there, dumbfounded.
It wasn't until Carina had disappeared entirely that the meaning of her words caught up with him.
"...Whatever I think I know? Don't tell me she actually thinks that's a secret?"
Durmstrang was known for its insularity—the entire school was enchanted so that any visitor who crossed its threshold would forget its location the moment they left. But that was a measure against intruders and outsiders. Students and their families naturally knew roughly where it stood.
And Carina, who had once come close to becoming a Durmstrang student, knew well enough.
Durmstrang: a vast stone fortress built into the sea cliffs of the Scandinavian coast. An island of land reachable only by ship.
And the Sturmwind was the piece of that fortress carved away and set afloat—a ghost ship carrying Durmstrang's shadow across the water.
Carina walked to the lakeshore behind the castle and knocked on the hull of the moored Sturmwind. Wooden steps erupted from beneath the surface in a burst of spray, rising dry and steady from the water. She climbed them without a drop touching her and stepped aboard.
Karkaroff was waiting in his gleaming fur coat.
"Ah, a most welcome visitor!"
Carina descended to the deck with a graceful nod. The Durmstrang students who rarely received guests turned to stare at her with undisguised interest.
She let their attention wash over her and handed Karkaroff a letter—one from Lucius Malfoy.
"A letter from my father. He asked me to pass along his regards."
"I owe Lucius a great deal, in more ways than one... If you find yourself back at Malfoy Manor, please tell him I am well, and that I am grateful. Miss Malfoy."
Igor Karkaroff, headmaster of Durmstrang, laughed with easy warmth.
Once a senior figure among the Death Eaters—nearly sent to Azkaban by Mad-Eye Moody, then spared through a deal with Barty Crouch Sr. that cost several of his colleagues their freedom. He had clawed his way to the headmastership through sheer political instinct.
The worst kind of traitor, by Death Eater reckoning. And yet Lucius Malfoy had maintained a cordial relationship with him.
When Karkaroff had given his testimony, he had redirected blame away from Lucius and onto others. In return, Lucius had paid his bail and continued to provide financial support. The arrangement had held ever since, and Karkaroff had pledged his full cooperation.
Had Carina gone to Durmstrang, she would have lived like a princess under his patronage. Various circumstances had brought her to Hogwarts instead.
"A shame, truly. A talent like yours would have suited Durmstrang far better than Hogwarts."
"My mother worried. She didn't want me sent somewhere so far away."
Carina said it without meaning a word of it.
She took in the atmosphere—oppressive and colourless, the air damp and close, the students' faces carrying a vaguely waterlogged look. She exhaled quietly through her nose.
Lucius had ultimately sent Carina to Hogwarts partly because of Narcissa's insistence, but also because he knew perfectly well that Hogwarts was the superior environment. The great enchanted castle set against forest and lake was worlds apart from Durmstrang's grim aesthetic. Had she arrived as a fourth-year here, she might have felt a pang of envy at Hogwarts' beauty. She was newly grateful she had ended up there.
And above all, Hogwarts was where she had met Harry—
'No. Stop that.'
Carina gave her head a firm shake. Harry's face had been surfacing at entirely random moments lately, which she found deeply inconvenient.
Karkaroff guided her to a table laid with a carpet and flicked his wand. Two cups sailed through the air and settled before her.
"I can't receive a guest without offering something. Rum eggnog—milk, sugar, egg, cinnamon, and the rest. Will you have some?"
"With pleasure. Though I'd rather not get drunk, so forgive me if I don't finish it."
"Of course. As the lady prefers..."
Carina sipped the eggnog. It was expensive, but the flavour was rough in a way that didn't quite suit her palate. She drank just enough to be polite and turned her thoughts to the matter at hand.
Igor Karkaroff. A man who had bought his survival by selling his comrades.
That was how Lucius had described him. But a desperate man's lifeline was also his weakness—and Lucius, with his near-instinctive political sense, had made sure that debt ran deep. He had told Carina as much.
Use him freely, if you ever need to.
'...I've never seen Father use the Imperius Curse. But I think I understand why he's so good at it.'
The difference was that Carina was using this particular connection against her father's interests.
Karkaroff was almost certainly not working against Harry. He would be among the first purged if Voldemort returned—which was precisely why he maintained a wary non-hostility toward Dumbledore rather than outright opposition. He had no choice but to be on the right side.
But that also meant he was sitting on a great deal of concealed information. And Carina was the only person positioned to draw it out.
She let a warm smile settle onto her face.
"It's lovely. The rough heat of the rum dissolves into the milk and creates something quite distinctive."
"Ha! When the guest has such refinement, the host feels his own standing rise to match."
"Durmstrang has always had a certain distinction. And this year, with the finest Seeker in Bulgarian history among your students—"
"Ah, Viktor! He is our pride!"
Karkaroff's face lit up as though the compliment had been paid to him personally.
Carina kept him buoyant with carefully measured flattery.
"It was only natural that he was chosen as Durmstrang's Champion."
"Quite. Between you and me, I thought Viktor alone would be enough... I knew it would be him! But one must keep up appearances, and the other students deserved a chance to support him, so I brought them all along..."
"Indeed. The Tournament should have proceeded exactly as intended. What a pity that it didn't."
Carina let the sentence trail off. Karkaroff's expression darkened in kind.
"Yes. Dumbledore. It's always him. He's done something again, without a word to anyone..."
Dumbledore?
Carina blinked.
"Dumble... dore?"
"Yes. Whether he's found some way to guarantee Hogwarts wins, or whether he's planning something to humiliate us again... That devious old man."
He didn't seem to be performing. He wouldn't have answered unprompted if he'd fabricated the suspicion himself.
Carina revised her assumptions. She had expected someone of his former rank among the Death Eaters to have some inside knowledge of what had happened. But from the way he spoke, he seemed entirely on the outside. Too early to be certain—but it was beginning to look that way.
"Couldn't it have been someone else? Why are you so sure it was Dumbledore?"
"The Goblet of Fire was kept under strict guard in the Ministry's lower levels, and transferred here only when the Tournament was confirmed. It is not an object that can be tampered with by ordinary magic—it is the sacred flame of the Triwizard Tournament, after all! The only person capable of manipulating the Goblet is Dumbledore... unless the Ministry itself was involved in some conspiracy!"
Karkaroff's outburst faded into a sour grimace, as though a bad memory had surfaced.
"But the Ministry wouldn't do that. Ludo Bagman hasn't the competence for it, and Barty Crouch—that man would sooner bite off his own tongue than allow a breach of the rules. So it must, by necessity, be Dumbledore."
Carina's attention sharpened. She knew Dumbledore hadn't written Harry's name into the Goblet. Which meant the culprit was someone Karkaroff had just mentioned—Ludo Bagman, or Barty Crouch?
She ventured carefully.
"Barty Crouch? He's the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, isn't he?"
"Now he is. But before that business, he was Head of Magical Law Enforcement... He sent countless people to Azkaban. Received death threats from their families and didn't flinch—just moved on to the next case. Extraordinarily impartial. And utterly... ruthless in his principles."
Even a principled man could turn traitor, Carina thought—but the next words stopped her cold.
"He even had his own son imprisoned in Azkaban to die. He sent Longbottom's—"
Karkaroff caught himself there, as though suddenly remembering where he was. He exhaled with a rueful sound.
"Ah. Forgive me. That's hardly a suitable topic for present company."
"Not at all. I found it fascinating. Any story told by someone of your distinction carries its own weight."
"You flatter me shamelessly. I almost envy Lucius. To have a daughter so sharp and so lovely..."
Karkaroff looked genuinely delighted—but Carina caught the small, careful flicker of wariness beneath it.
It wasn't directed at her, precisely. More like a man quietly reproving himself for having said too much. Pressing further now would do more harm than good. She took another sip of eggnog and let the mood settle.
"Ah—Viktor!"
At that moment, Karkaroff called out to Viktor Krum as he passed. Viktor turned and walked into the sitting room.
Karkaroff rose from his seat and made the introduction.
"This is Miss Carina Malfoy. Slytherin's Seeker, I'm told."
"Carina Mar-foy?"
Viktor's English was halting. Carina smiled pleasantly and studied him.
Up close, his features were easy to read. Slightly hunched, with a prominent hooked nose—he was the sort who looked best on a broomstick. The stooped posture, as though he'd just climbed off one after an hour's flight, grated on her in a way she couldn't quite suppress.
Unbidden, Harry came to mind. They were both Quidditch players, but the comparison ended there—in looks, in bearing, in presence, Harry was in an entirely different category.
She had promised herself she would stop, but with someone standing right in front of her, the contrast kept asserting itself. Was Harry Potter simply, objectively, attractive by any reasonable standard? Had it not been merely Carina's own skewed perception all along?
'No—what am I thinking again.'
She exhaled and gathered herself.
Regardless of all that, Viktor Krum's skill on a broomstick was genuine, and he happened to be Draco's favourite player. The thought of Draco gave her an idea, and she asked for an autograph on the spot.
Viktor signed the parchment with an air of mild reluctance.
"You are also my fan?"
Fan. A pleasantly calibrated word for the distance between them.
No romantic interest whatsoever, yet a perfectly reasonable excuse to seek someone out more than once. She didn't quite qualify as a fan in any meaningful sense, but what did that matter? As long as Viktor Krum didn't know the difference.
Carina considered for a moment, then arranged her smile.
"Yes. The Wronski Feint was tremendously impressive. If we'd had Quidditch matches this year, I might have tried it myself."
"Don't. Skill, separate—need good broom."
"No need to worry about that, Viktor! Miss Malfoy rides a Firebolt!"
Viktor's eyes widened slightly. Carina felt a small, satisfied lift in her shoulders.
Karkaroff smiled with evident pleasure.
"Wonderful, wonderful! What a fine partnership that would make!"
Partnership. A closer word than she had intended—but she had no desire to disturb the warmth of the moment, so she let it stand. She rose from her seat with a sociable smile, leaving Karkaroff looking faintly reluctant to see her go, and stepped off the ship.
The Durmstrang students craned their necks to watch until Carina's feet touched the shore.