I don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter 4- Everything in Between
Professor Lily Potter stared unblinkingly at the first years gathered in front of the Great Hall, waiting to be sorted. For some unknown reason something tugged at the strings of heart, like there was something wrong with the first years this year. Like something was missing. James, her beloved husband, stared questioningly at her but she hardly noticed. It was close to the feeling she gets when her 10 year old daughter was in trouble. But this time, it was directed at the first years, strangely enough.

She hardly noticed the Hat's song and continued to stare at the nervous children. Seeing them walk in front of a Hall filled with people, getting sorted, just like every other year, did nothing to calm her rattled nerves.

What's wrong? she thought to herself, Why am I feeling strange?

Lily was startled out of her daze when James clapped loudly when Neville Longbottom was sorted into Gryffindor.

She looked at her godson, who was clambering to a seat beside the Weasley twins and smiled at him when he glanced at her direction. She saw him beam back and regain some of his confidence.

Next year it would be Gem's face beaming back at her. Next year, her baby girl would be all grown up and attending Hogwarts. But that was next year. Why was she feeling so fretful this year?

Aphri laughed as Michael Stoner tripped while attempting to imitate Krum's slightly waddle-like walk. The Bulgarian boy scowled and began cursing in his mother language.
The fifth year prefect was leading them to their dorms stopped and turned to glare at the cussing boy. Stoner had the grace to look shamed. Aphri only laughed harder and Draco was not far behind.

Classes haven't even started yet and they were already having fun.

Gem Potter waited excitedly as names were called and their respective owners got sorted. They were already at the N's and she couldn't help but fidget when they started at the O's.
What if the hat didn't put her in Gryffindor and instead placed her in another house? What if she got separated from Ginny and they wouldn't have classes together?

Her excitement was gone, replaced with nervousness.

Potter, Gem!

Her name rang through the Great Hall so loudly that she winced. Whispers began to rapidly replace the sudden silence that took residence once her name was called.

She shuffled her feet and timidly took a step forward.

There were snippets of conversations she caught, but she paid them no heed. And the last thing she saw before the Hat fell over her eyes were hundreds of different other eyes staring straight at her.

Lucius stared pensively at the black muggle diary sitting innocently at his desk. He honestly didn't know what to do with it. His old master said that he should plant it at Hogwarts when the time comes. But on the other hand, he and Narcissa had renounced their old master when they decided to adopt Aphrazeil.
Thinking of Aphrazeil made up his mind. Stalking determinedly towards his desk, he picked up the diary and threw it in the fireplace where it burned to ashes.

Peter Pettigrew was a wreck; that was for sure. After two years of searching, Auror Black has finally found the bloody traitor that sold out his best friend to the Dark Lord and nearly killed his goddaughter.
He looked like a fat man that had thinned considerably in a small amount of time. Which was probably true, considering he looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

His cheeks were sunken and eyes were tired, but once he spotted Sirius, positively growling at the sight of him when he arrived, they immediately widened and his body began to morph. Sirius quickly casted the spell to force him to remain human and knocked him out. He was tied up in magical ropes and quickly apparated to the ministry.

The shackles that bonded him to the chair were magical, something to be expected when facing the Wizengamot.
He stared nervously at the foreboding figures that were before him. Licking his dry lips, he tried to plead for his life.

"I-I had no o-other ch-choice." Pettigrew stuttered, "He-he would've k- gulp –killed me!"

"Then you should've died." Sirius hissed, "I would've, Remus would've, Frank would've!"

"I was n-never brave like y-you."

"That much is obvious." A loud commanding voice said. Heads turned as Madame Bones entered the chamber and was immediately followed by Albus Dumbledore.

Pettigrew's eyes widened in horror as the cold blue eyes of the headmaster met his.

"Wait, wait!" he started to scream, "I know where Harry Potter is! He's with Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy! Please don't kill me!"

Recognition flashed through Sirius eyes for a second before disappearing the next.

Pettigrew looked hopefully at Dumbledore, hoping for a pardon from his old headmaster but what he saw only chilled his bones. Cold hard fury was written on the wizened face of the powerful wizard.

That was when he knew, his fate was sealed.

A roar rippled through the gathered students as Krum swooped down and pulled off a perfectly executed Wronski Feint. He doubled back and shot across the pitch towards the opposing team's goal post.
Draco watched, slightly bored as Aphri flew near Krum beating back any bludgers that came close to the two. They were going to win; it was obvious from the start. There was absolutely no way a team this pathetic was gonna beat Bulgaria.

A whistle shrieked through the air and the red and black section cheered a second after Krum snatched the fluttering gold ball from above the opposing keeper's shoulder.

"That's it ladies and gents, the game is over, 90-230 Durmstrang! Durmstrang has won the preliminary finals!"

Despite his boredom only seconds ago, he couldn't keep the wide grin from spreading across his face. Draco angled his broom and landed, immediately rushing towards his brother.

Aphri was completely ecstatic, as he jumped to embrace Draco.

"We won, we won!" he babbled, tears of happiness running down his cheeks, "We're going to the Quidditch World Cup! You, me and Krum!"

Draco laughed as Aphri continued to babble about how proud father was going to be.

The Bulgarian Minister of Magic stared dubiously at the piece of parchment he held in his hand. Two fourth years from Durmstrang, joining the sixth and seventh years to go to Hogwarts? He glanced at the Durmstrang headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, who was standing in front of his desk, impatiently waiting for his reply.

"I zon't know avout diz, Igor..."

"Vhat's zhere to not know?" Karkaroff said with flourish, "theze two children are amazing! Var beyond zeir yearz in education!"

"Yes, but they are Malvoyz."

"Exactly!" Karkaroff banged the Minister's desk, "They are Malvoyz, whoze parentz live in England. I do not see a reazon to deny them to return to their moth'er country even if they are representing Durmstrang."

"Vell, if you're sure..." the Minister quickly scribbled his signature on the paper before handing it back to the taller man.

"Believe me Minister, I'm quite zertain all vill turn out perfectly."

Gem sat between her mother and Ginny as she watched her father scowl disdainfully at Mr. Malfoy, while the idiot Minister (as Uncle Sirius calls him) tried to keep the peace between the two, not because he liked the minister but because he didn't want to lose his job.
She looked at the angry face of her father as he asked the Minister what Mr. Malfoy was doing here, all the while with Mr. Malfoy shooting disgusted looks at her mother.

"James, James please calm down!" the idiot Minister pleaded, "Lucius is here with his wife as a guest of the Bulgarian Minister."

Gem looked at Mrs. Malfoy as she tuned out all the political aspects of the conversation. Mrs. Malfoy was a pretty woman with long blond hair and icy blue eyes, a few shades darker than Mr. Malfoy's. Her eyes seemed to be darting around the Quidditch pitch as if she was looking for something.

"They are here because both their sons are playing for the Bulgarian team."

That got her attention.

"What!" spluttered her father. "The Malfoy boy couldn't be older than sixteen!"

"They are both fourteen or at least turning fourteen this year." Mr. Malfoy corrected. "Draco, my older son was born on February, my second son Aphrazeil was born on October; he was conceived prematurely but thankfully in perfect health."

"How can fourteen year old boys play in the Quidditch World Cup Finals?"

"They played alongside Krum in Durmstrang and were scouted for the national team."

"Well gentlemen," interrupted the Minister, "I believe it is time to start the finals. If both of you would please take your seats...?"

Mr. Malfoy led her wife to a chair and graciously helped her to her seat. He then chose one beside hers and sat down gracefully. The perfect picture of a gentleman.

Her father however, roughly plopped down on seat, next to her mother, muttering about preposterous fourteen year old cheats. If anybody heard him, they graciously decided to ignore it.

They were celebrating their victory over the Irish when the attack came. His mother paled and darted between their wardrobes, pulling out their cloaks. She hurriedly forced their coats on them and ushered them outside the tent.
"Quick children, run towards the forest, don't come out until your father and I come to get you."

Draco had nodded quickly before dragging Aphrazeil with him.

With their reflexes, it was easy enough to avoid the stampeding people and get to the forest near their camp. Something invisible brushed by Draco while they were running but he ignored it in favor of getting both him and his brother to safety.

The next chapter would probably be the beginning to the real story.
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Akira J. S.