♦ 004 ♦

                                    

                                          
The Goblet of Fire
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The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. 
When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.
"Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. "Harry Potter. . . oh come on now, you know who he is. . . . the boy who survived You-Know-Who. . . you do know who he is. . . ."
The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.
"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages. I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat. . . . Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places. . . . ah, and here's Lucius!"
Harry, Ron, Sadie and Hermione turned quickly. Edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Dobby the house-elf's former owners. Lucius Malfoy, his son, Draco and a woman Sadie    supposed must be Draco's mother.
A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was blonde too, tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose.
"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"
"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 of 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?"
It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy looked at each other and Sadie   vividly recalled the last time they had come face-to-face. It had been in Flourish and Blotts' bookshop, and they had had a fight. Mr. Malfoy's cold grey eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.
"Good lord, Arthur," he 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.
Mr. Malfoy's eyes had returned to Sadie      and Hermione. Hermione went slightly pink, but Sadie stared at Mr. Malfoy with a cold look. Sadie      knew exactly what was making Mr. Malfoy's lip curl like that. The Malfoys prided themselves on being pure-bloods. In other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent, like Sadie      and Hermione, second-class. 
However, under the gaze of the Minister of Magic, Mr. Malfoy didn't dare say anything. He nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continued down the line to his seats. Draco shot Harry, Ron, Sadie      and Hermione one contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father.