Draco of Durmstrang

Draco frowned deeply as he dragged the coarse comb through the thick fur of the coat, as quickly as he was able to, over and over. There was something stuck in it, and the fur had to be perfect, absolutely perfect, for the arrival at Hogwarts, which was imminent. Draco had brushed most of it until it shone, but this stubborn patch refused to be fixed. What on earth had got on it? And the worst thing of all was, it wasn't even his fur. It wasn't even him who would be striding into the Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, ready to participate in the fabled Triwizard Tournament. Not him who was to be the Champion representing Durmstrang.

'Malfoy! Wo ist mein Mantel?' called Viktor Krum's voice from above, where the older boys were talking and laying about and gambling, as usual.

'Es ist fast bereit!' Draco called, working even faster on the fur.

'Ich wünsche es jetzt!' Viktor yelled. ‚Wir sind hier!'

With a sigh, Draco gave the fur one last brush, folded it hastily and hurried up the stairs. The ten or so final year students stared indolently at him as he handed the fur to Viktor, who at least muttered 'Danke' as he shrugged it over his shoulders, and, thankfully, didn't seem to notice the small sticky patch. With a shrug and a nod of his head, he dismissed Draco.

Draco climbed the stairs to the deck wearily, the tips of his ears turning red as he heard the others making fun of his accent. His German was excellent now, but still they found something to criticise. He supposed he ought to be used to it, after three years at the school where German was the teaching language. He tried to eavesdrop, but tuned out as they switched to Bulgarian. His Russian was good and his Polish and Czech passable, but Bulgarian he had given up on entirely, which was probably why the older boys spoke it so frequently, at least when he was around.

Anyway, that was of little consequence now, and Draco forgot all about Viktor and his cohorts as he came up on deck. The other eleven dieners, one for each of the prospective Champions, were already at the railing, several of them leaning percariously over. The ship was just rising from the lake. Draco joined the edge of the row of boys and watched fixedly as Hogwarts Castle hove into view.

One of the other boys whistled. Draco just stood silently and drank in the sight. The castle was enormous, and covered in towers and turrets and all of those things one would expect from a proper castle. It was stately and dignified, not at all like squat, unrefined Durmstrang. To their right was a large, imposing forest, and to the left, green, rolling downs. As the ship rose higher in the water, more of the castle revealed itself, and Draco drank in every detail, almost forgetting even to blink.

As the boat was anchored, the champion hopefuls came on deck. Most of them barely glanced at the castle, and those that did professed indifference or even scorn. But what should Draco have expected? What did they know of taste or elegance?

Draco watched wistfully as they disembarked and headed for the castle. They would be entering the Great Hall soon. The ceiling in there was enchanted - he had read about it in his mother's copy of Hogwarts: A History. How unjust that they should see it and be unable to appreciate it, while he was so close, but stuck on this horrible, damp ship.

Draco must have looked thoroughly miserable, because one of the other dieners called:

'Was ist los, Malfoy?', then disappeared below without waiting to hear what was bothering him.

From the sounds that emanated from the lower room, they were taking the opportunity to have some kind of party while Karkaroff and the older boys were at the castle. Draco, of course, was not invited, and would be ignored if he went in anyway. To be a diener was to be looked down on and ordered about and demeaned daily, and even they would not lower themselves to speak to Draco.

Now that Draco had the deck to himself, he found a better spot and settled down to watch the castle. Lights flickered past the windows occasionally, and sometimes people went in or out. He had read Hogwarts: A History so often that he could quote long passages, and watching the castle now he wondered exactly where the famed bust of Paracelsus was, and if anyone was on a moving staircase right now, and which of the towers was which.

After the light had faded, Draco went the long way around to his room to avoid the other dieners. The sleeping arrangements were such that each final year student slept in a room above his diener, so that they could be summoned at a moment's notice by way of a knock on the floor. This, in practice, meant that the dieners slept practically in the bilge. It smelled musty and damp and thoroughly unpleasant, but the mattress was soft enough and he had plenty of blankets. Draco wrapped himself up and fell asleep.

It seemed that Draco had barely gone to sleep when he heard the thudding above him which signalled that Viktor was ready for his breakfast.

The days blurred together after that, since each one was similar to the one before. Viktor would wake Draco by banging on the floor, and Draco would fetch Viktor's breakfast before getting something for himself. There was always plenty to eat and Viktor took so long dressing that Draco was usually able to linger over breakfast. After that there would be lessons, taught by Karkaroff or sometimes by the older boys. Draco did tolerably well in all of his classes, and so this part of the day held only the usual dread of being ridiculed by his classmates, which no longer had much power over him since it happened so frequently. After classes would be dinner, and then the older students might go over to the castle. If Viktor didn't go over, there would inevitably soon be a gaggle of girls on the edge of the lake, trying to look nonchalant while peering ridiculously to catch a glimpse of the Champion. For Viktor had been chosen to represent Durmstrang in the Triwizard Tournament. Draco had expected nothing else, and so the announcement barely interested him. There had been a party that night too, another one to which he was not invited. Most nights, Viktor dismissed Draco after dinner, and he was free to go to his room and do his homework. Draco's routine never changed. Until the day that Viktor brought a Hogwarts girl to the ship.