Domitian hadn't taken any notice of this competition before it moved to Hogsmeade, but now that it had become more mainstream he hadn't hesitated to sign up. Transfiguration ran in his bloodline (as blood purity apparently did not), and he'd always had a talent for it. That, and he wouldn't have passed up an opportunity to show off a bit — though he would hate for anyone to know that about him. It had been one of the things that had drawn him to his choice of career, actually. It was flashy and exciting... without having a three-year training program like the aurors did. And without half so much paperwork as aurors had, too, though now that he was running the squad he had his fair share of that, too.

There wasn't much that he could do to prepare at this point, so he was just lingering with the rest of the racers and sizing up the competition. The arrival of his son surprised him, though the only indication he gave of this was a raise of one eyebrow.

"Nicodemus," he greeted. "You seem to have lost your way. Shouldn't you be in the stands?"