Draco found himself glad that his father hadn’t sent him there after all as he sidled over to a wall and put his back to it, slouching and glaring at the room through his hair, which despite Hermione trimming it was still long enough to hang over his eyes. He had come to like it that way, hiding behind his hair. Karkaroff’s escort were typical big oafs who looked thick as two planks, and sullen with it – Draco didn’t imagine he would have fit in there, somehow.