Chapter One
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"He'll be here. I know it." Lily whispered to James resolutely.
James only smiled back with a strange expression consisting of a smile and a grimace.
Their first child, Harry Potter, had been taken from Godric's Hollow in the middle of the night when he was but a year old. Peter Pettigrew had been found and captured for his sins, but was found dead in his temporary cell before the interrogation. Everyone would have assumed that the child was dead.
Her clock proved otherwise. It was something like the Weasley family's clock, but far more detailed. Lily had the clock made when she first found herself with child. Harry's needle had never pointed to 'Dead' throughout all these years, but instead remained firmly pointed at the blank spot at the south of the clock. It was what gave Lily hope, against all the odds. It was also what convinced Lily to accept the offer to become Hogwarts' Charms professor.
"Lily's really convinced that Harry will be coming from one of the other schools?" Sirius asked James when he saw Lily's attention focused on somewhere outside the Hogwarts castle.
"Yes. She's been staring out of the window, waiting for the other schools to arrive." James said, glancing at his wife, who was still staring out the window longingly.
"Even if he doesn't, she would insist that Harry merely didn't get chosen." Remus added quietly. He had been staying at Hogwarts ever since Umbridge drafted the Anti-Werewolf Legislation in nineteen ninety three, acting as Rubeus Hagrid's assistant.
"He may still appear." James lowered his eyes to the floor, smiling slightly. "This is my last hope, you get me? The only chance I would get to even see students from other schools. Maybe I could ask whether anyone knows him."
"Students will be complaining about the wacko Auror that's been asking about green eyes." Sirius joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Come on, its five thirty already. We've got to go down to greet the foreign students."
James tapped Lily lightly on the shoulder. With a startled jump, she looked away from the window.
"Come on, we'd better hurry, or Filch will have our heads." Sirius said, dragging Remus down the stairs with him. Shaking their heads, the two Potters only smiled and followed at a slower pace behind.
The Triwizard tournament had finally been restarted in nineteen ninety seven, a whole three years later than planned because of Voldemort. His attacks had slowly but surely lessened until one day, all of it stopped eight years ago.
Most marked Death Eaters were caught and let free with the excuse of the Imperius Curse. The notorious Bellatrix Lestrange had disappeared into thin air along with the Dark Lord. Despite all the suspicious points, Fudge was happy as a lark. Voldemort was declared dead. Azkaban wasn't filled to the brim with Death Eaters, and his career was going smooth. Many people were skeptical at first, but as the years passed and there was no sign of Voldemort, most accepted and welcomed the peace.
Not all were appeased—namely Dumbledore—and James privately thought the old wizard was right.
It was unsettling, because more and more former Death Eaters were having high-ranking spots in the Ministry. Many of their children also skipped out on Hogwarts, instead choosing to go to Beauxbatons, a bizarre choice going against tradition.
Of course, James would never say those thoughts outright. With that Dolores Umbridge acting as the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, he could be easily fired.
When the four arrived, the students were already standing neatly in lines, and the ever-strict Professor McGonagall was making sure her students were impeccably groomed.
"First years in front, please,"
"To think I'm old enough to enter," Ron crowed. "I'm going to win that prize money!"
"You don't even know if you'll be chosen." said Hermione.
"How do you think they'll be arriving?" Seamus grinned. "I say brooms."
"I say Apparation." Ron added.
"You can't apparated into Hogwarts grounds, Ron! I think I've said that for a million times." Hermione said impatiently. "And it's too far, isn't it? Too far to travel by broomsticks."
"Well, they could apparate outside the grounds and walk in." Ron protested, shivering as a gust of wind blew over the assembled students.
All chattering ceased when Dumbledore called out from behind the students. "Aha! I believe Beauxbatons approaches!"
Seamus looked to the left, Hermione to the right, Ron to the sky, and Seamus twirled in a circle in search of the mysterious delegation.
A huge shadowy figure grew even larger against the dark evening sky.
"It's a flying house!" screamed Dennis Creevey.
"No, it's a congregation of broomsticks!" someone else argued.
The rest of the students stood awestruck and stunned at the sight, watching as the gigantic figure approached, growing larger and larger by the moment.
Hooves the size of dinner plates stomped the ground, the horses' fiery red eyes shining furiously in the darkness, and tossed their manes.
With a large thump, the carriage came to a stop.
Ambrose opened the carriage door and tried to jump down as gracefully as possible. A flight of great golden steps folded down, and he stepped aside as Madame Maxime's shiny black heels made its descend down. The rest of the students filed down after her, and he gravitated to where Daphne and Blaise were standing.
"Disappointed?" Daphne teased, her French as natural as English, nudging Blaise gently.
"Quite. I was expecting a shining palace like Beauxbatons'." he motioned towards the Hogwarts grounds. "This is unexpectedly bit dark and dreary."
Ambrose shrugged. "It's still rather grand. The atmosphere here seems…more casual."
"Maybe because they don't have such strict etiquette here." Blaise snorted.
"You don't know that though, do you?" Ambrose scanned the sea of black robes. "They look quite presentable to me."
"We do," Daphne grinned, observing Dumbledore kissing the Headmistress' hand. "I have friends here, and from their descriptions, wearing red is a pseudonym for avoid, and the ones wearing green are the best."
"I bet your friends are wearing green." Ambrose guessed smugly.
"And they are, but we don't get to sit there."
"Why?" asked Blaise. "Headmistress said it was free seating."
"Only after the champions are chosen, I believe." Ambrose frowned, trying to remember the Headmistress' words. "I think she said something about our uniforms fitting the blue house, so we will sit there as a school at first."
"Come," Madame Maxime said, and the crowd parted to let them through.
Suddenly, a shriek pierced the chattering. "It's Ambrose Eschete! Oh Merlin, Eschete!" Ginny squealed, pointing to the green-eyed boy clad in powder blue. The student body exploded into an even louder buzz, though the adults at the back were standing puzzled.
"Do you think he'll sign my hat?"
"A quill—does anyone have a quill?"
"Lipstick; that'll work right?"
Before any of his fans could ask for a signature, the Beauxbatons students had already passed and entered the Great Hall. Both boys failed to notice the brief scowl that flashed across Daphne's face at the girls' comments.*
"Looks like you've even got fans in Britain." Blaise smirked as Ambrose shook his head.
"I think they'll be rather disappointed by his actual face." Daphne coughed. "You see his skin here isn't even half as smooth."
"It does not matter…as long as no one asks me why." Ambrose grumbled, choosing a seat at the blue house, which turned out to be called Ravenclaw.
"I heard about the WonderWitch cosmetics. They're sold by Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, and Dahlia says it's even better than Pavotéclate's."
Ambrose considered the validity of her words. Truly, Dahlia Aydelotte had enviable flawless skin. "She uses WonderWitch?"
"Ooh, are you interested?" Daphne teased, before continuing on a more serious note. "You'll have to ask her."
The Hall filled up some time after, and the most of the Beauxbatons pupils were looking around the Hall glumly.
"Draco said that there were golden plates." Daphne sighed.
"And there are golden plates." said Ambrose. "I prefer Bella's silverware, though, they are much more delicate. This is a bit chunky."
"The gold looks more like bronze. Well-polished, but still bronze." Daphne said, prodding a plate.
Madame Maxime strode in, her shiny black ensemble and tall height drawing everyone's attention, and Ambrose leapt to his feet. A few Hogwarts students laughed, and Daphne shot them a scandalized glare. The blue clad students only resumed their seats when Madame Maxime sat, and after a short speech from Dumbledore, food appeared on the golden plates.
"This Hogwarts food is too heavy." Daphne pouted. "And oily."
"Why, worried for the Yule Ball?" Blaise said, devouring the bacon strips.
"Even if Daphne's not, I am. My dress robes are rather form-fitting." Ambrose eyed the bouillabaisse at the red house's table. "I spy some bouillabaisse."
"Oh." Daphne's eyes lit up. "But it's at Gryffindor's table."
Ambrose looked down the length of the Ravenclaw's table, and shook his head. "There's only bacon, steak and ham here. I shall ask the redhead for it."
"Red is a pseudonym for avoid." Blaise reminded him.
"Then you can avoid the bouillabaisse." Before any of his two friends could say anything, Ambrose had stood up, heading for the Gryffindor table. At the sight of the young singer coming closer, the red table's occupants seemed to be chirruping with soft squeals.
"—so unfair, Durmstrang has Krum, Beauxbatons has Eschete, Hogwarts has nothing—" he vaguely heard a student from the yellow house comment as he passed.
"Excuse me," Ambrose said in English, smiling apologetically for interrupting the conversation. "Do you still want the bouillabaisse?"
The redhead turned, startled, and stared at the green-eyed boy for a second before turning back to the dish.
"Yeah, take it." Ron finally said.
"You are finished with it, yes?"
"Yeah, all finished." Seamus confirmed.
"Uh," Another redhead, female this time, spoke before Ambrose could pick up the dish. She was nervously holding up lipstick and a pointed black hat, blushing furiously. "Could—could you sign it? Please?"
Ambrose complied, signing it carelessly. He took her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles and handed the hat back.
"I apologise, it may be a bit crooked." The boy smiled, taking the plate of bouillabaisse up carefully and walking back to the Ravenclaw table.
"I should've brought lipstick too." Hermione muttered disappointedly.
Ron and Seamus stared at her, aghast. "Are you sure you're Hermione?" they exclaimed together.
"Don't look at me like that! My parents enjoy his music." Hermione said defensively, and explained further when she received an even more bewildered look from Seamus. "Ever since I set up the Wizarding radio back home, they've been obsessed with it."
"You should listen to Ciel de Choix." Parvati suggested. "That radio station is ranking third in popularity currently, and they put on loads of French songs."
"Oh, don't waste your breath, Parvati. My brother here never listens to the radio." Ginny complained. "In fact, he even tries to turn it off."
By this time, Ambrose had already returned to the Ravenclaw table, setting the bouillabaisse down carefully.
"Those Gryffindors sure are strange." Ambrose complained, still in English, taking his seat. "I heard them talking about eating Hagrid's fingers and huge spiders in the forest outside."
"Huge spiders?" Daphne broke in worriedly. "Just outside?"
"Yeah, it's called the Forbidden Forest, just beside the castle." Cho Chang said, joining into the conversation. "And Hagrid's our Care of Magical Creatures teacher; he often brings dangerous animals to class."
"Like what?" Blaise asked, wondering how dangerous the creatures were compared to Beauxbatons'.
"Thestrals, hippogriffs, Blast-Ended Skrewts—"
"What?" Ambrose interrupted. He'd never heard of anything like that before. "Blasted Ended what?"
"Skrewts," Cho smiled. "They were bred by Hagrid himself, a cross between manticore and fire crabs."
"Manticore?" Daphne gasped. "Fire crabs?"
"And he got the students to handle these?" Ambrose frowned.
"Not just handle." Cho snorted. "We had to feed them; take them for walks, like a pet. It didn't help that they were hyper-aggressive, and as unique hybrids, the teacher himself knew nothing about them."
"Is there not a ban on experimental breeding?" said Ambrose disbelievingly. "I can't believe he let students touch hybrids he had no knowledge of."
"There is, but the Headmaster is Dumbledore after all." Cho sighed, remembering the terrible moments she had during the Magical Creatures class. "He's not bad, but his teaching is questionable. How is Beauxbatons' Care of Magical Creatures?"
"Boring and safe, loads of theory and often muddy, but everyone loves it." Daphne said smugly. "Guess why?"
"The animals are cute?"
The blue-clad girl shook her head tantalisingly. "It's the Abraxan horses. We get to breed them in third year, and the foal will be yours to keep even after leaving Beauxbatons if you got a Magnificent for all your NEWT exams and O's for all the OWL exams."
"Serious? They give away Abraxans just like that?" Cho said skeptically.
"Just like that, but getting an M for NEWT is already hard enough…all M's? I doubt anyone could achieve that." Ambrose said mournfully. He had grown rather attached to the horse, and the thought of having to leave it when graduating was depressing.
"That sounds like excellent incentive to get people studying though." Cho said approvingly. "Wish Hogwarts could do that."
Golden plates cleared; the dishes were replaced by dessert.
Ambrose frowned at the spread. "Why doesn't this table have any good dishes again?" he lamented.
"Crème caramel, blancmange—is that a slice of Charlotte à la Framboise?" Blaise muttered, craning his head to look at the Gryffindor table's selection of food.
Someone at the table moved the plate of blancmange a few inches to the right carefully, as if tempting the Beauxbatons students to come over once more.
"Mmhm…I'd really like some of the crème caramel." Ambrose eyed the delicacy hungrily.
"Yule Ball. Dress Robes. Diet." Daphne said sharply.
"Yule Ball?" Cho asked curiously. "There'll be a ball?"
Ambrose looked at the black haired girl incredulously. "You don't know? Dumbledore has not told you anything?"
"Nothing at all, not a hint. What's this about a ball?"
Daphne, Blaise and Ambrose shared a glance. Seems like the old wizard's reputation for being fair was true. Well, that would only make it easier for the other schools to win.
"The ball will be held on Christmas, sometime after the first task." Daphne said.
"Seriously?" Cho gasped. "Oh dear, I brought my lousiest dress robes. Why didn't Dumbledore say anything earlier?"
Smiling, Ambrose was reminded of a friend back in Beauxbatons. "But you already know earlier than everyone else."
"Yes—thank you, I'd never have enough time to get better robes otherwise. I think I'll owl back home for some…"
All of a sudden, the plates cleared as Ambrose finally started reaching for a slice of trifle. Dumbledore stood up.
"Such awful timing." Ambrose grumbled.
Dumbledore smiled at the sea of upturned faces. "The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation—"
Ambrose felt a flare of dislike for the man, and did not bother clapping. Instead, he turned his eyes to Mad-Eye Moody, who stared straight ahead, his face cold as stone.
"The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch." Dumbledore concluded. He tapped his wand on the casket, revealing a plain Cup with unique blue flame, announcing that the Goblet of Fire would be placed in the Great Hall."
Hogwarts students craned their necks and whispered fervently, and when the cup was brought out, blue flames dancing merrily inside, the whispers grew even louder. He mentioned something about an age line, which was the new Tournament's condition.
"We only have twenty-four hours to submit our names." Ambrose moaned after the old man's speech was over.
"Why would you need more than that?" Daphne said, looking at him strangely. "Even five hours would be more than enough, honestly."
He did not answer.
"Do you still remember your Abraxan horses?" Madame Maxime said. At the silent nods from her students, she continued. "The one chosen: if he or she wins the Tournament, they get to keep theirs."
"We will place our names in the Goblet of Fire tomorrow morning, as a school." Madame Maxime declared, looking at the congregation of her best students. "Is that clear?"
Everyone nodded, and seeing that there was no disagreement, the abnormally tall woman turned back into her room as a sign of dismissal, and the rest of the students burst into chattering.
"We get to keep them?"
"One thousand Galleons of price money and an Abraxan—the horse itself is more than one thousand already!"
"I could keep Howlite." Ambrose murmured to himself.
A few hours later, the talk ceased; it was curfew already, and the students scattered into their rooms.
When the clock hit midnight, Ambrose dressed in black robes and slipped on his shoes, grabbing his cloak, parchment, a quill and tiptoed out of his room.
His cloak was charmed with a Bedazzling Hex, and he put it on, quietly sneaking out of the luxurious carriage that housed the Beauxbatons crowd. The carriage was not very far from the castle itself—Ambrose pushed through the grass, ignoring the rustle of grass his hurried footfalls caused till he reached the Entrance Hall.
"Barty." He whispered into thin air, and a detached hand suddenly grasped him by the shoulder, steering him backwards.
"Ambrose?" the invisible man that surely was Barty Crouch Jr confirmed. "You do remember the plan?"
"I do, but I really, really doubt it'll work…honestly, it's not that easy to sneak around the school, is it?"
"It will. I've heard all about the Beauxbatons security—prowling guards, traps, wards…none of that here. " Barty promised. "Normally, the security at Hogwarts is terrible, but because this is an important international thing, they have sent two Aurors to patrol in addition to the teachers."
"Only two Aurors? Are you kidding me?"
"I'm not. There won't be other patrols, but I have no idea about the Aurors."
"So you all dragged me into this plan just because of two extra Aurors."
"Indeed, indeed, and this is something we mustn't fail. He may not set the Cruciatus Curse on you, but he will on me." Barty emphasised.
"Then…then why are we talking in a precarious situation like it's a tea party? Anyone could suddenly walk in now."
"I told you earlier. The security here sucks." Barty smiled and shook his head, though Ambrose couldn't see him. "Then we shall get onto business. Recite the plan, please, so I can ensure your information didn't go through a game of Chinese whispers."
"Duplicate Moody two times, cast the disillusionment charm on them, be prepared to stun Aurors. Oblivate if needed."
"Good, now get on with it."
"Geminio. Geminio." Ambrose muttered two times, before tapping on the two Barty-copies one after another, casting the Disillusionment Charm on each of them.
Barty pointed his wand at the doors, and they swung open noiselessly. Double checking that nobody was inside, the four crept in cautiously.
The two duplicates remained at the door, swinging the door close behind them and looking around to ensure the was no one approaching, wands drawn and standing alert, whilst the other two advanced to stand in front of the Goblet of Fire.
Barty handed him an essay—filled with messy, hurried handwriting—to copy the handwriting.
Ambrose bent down on the nearest table, pulling parchment and a quill out. He studied the sample of handwriting given, and tried to copy the handwriting onto another piece of parchment. Ugh. The first try was nowhere near the original. Raising his head, he saw Barty's eyes narrowed in concentration, wand held firmly, and Ambrose thought he heard soft whispers of 'Confundo' over and over again.
He lowered his head, trying to copy the handwriting again. It was too large. The next was too messy, and the next too neat, and on the fifth try, he got it. Finally, sweet success! The writing looked similar enough though it was not an exact twin. He straightened up.
Barty gave him a sideways glance, mouthing "done?", and Ambrose handed the successful piece to him.
The older man dropped the parchment in with a satisfied grin, and Ambrose dispelled the conjured copies of Moody. With one last backwards glance at the empty Hall, the remaining two snuck out of the Great Hall, spelling the doors back shut silently and crept away.
A/N: I do hope that it's clear enough about when they're speaking French and when they're not, and there aren't any accents because it's hard to read and hard to write.
*-Loads of thanks to SlythrInHermione for helping me spot the errors, and the lovely sentence to show Daphne's annoyance.