A/N: Hi y'all. This is an idea I got out of the blue. I remembered the school's entrance, but found it decidedly odd that Hogwarts didn't have an entrance. So, this will be my fixing that. Now, because of how complex that idea will be, I have to plan it out, and get people involved. Since there will be an OC, I'm not going to just toss her into the middle of it with no warning whatsoever. That's like giving you readers the dessert before you have the courses. I truly hope you enjoy this story, because it's gonna be a ton of fun to write. Looking for a beta!

Chapter One:

Alea Dreadfire

Alea Dreadfire was many things; game lover, dancer, music lover, street rat, witch. What she wasn't expecting was that many of her 'smoke and mirror' tricks weren't actually smoke-and-mirror based. Oh, she knew, of course, but she also didn't particularly care to restrict herself. She was, after all, a street sensation, and you could almost guarantee that wherever she went, something happened, be it a performance, a fight, or just a regular street art palooza. She was a street celebrity. Her nickname on the streets was the Radiant Eclipse, because that was widely considered her favorite song. She'd often be found listening to it, somehow staying abreast of a situation regardless of how loud her music was, often dodging a blow without looking at someone. Now, she knew she wasn't perfect, but she was ingenious, after all, one doesn't turn themselves into a street favorite so that no matter what happened, you could see the results of her last or newest dance, which often incorporated breakdancing.

So, one could understand her surprise and skepticism when she got a letter – by owl, no less – that claimed to be from a school dedicated to Witchcraft and Wizardry. She decided to go, for no other reason than she needed two things; a change of scenery as her inspiration was starting to dry up; and a chance to get out and find out what the letter meant. She actively snorted in derision when she read that a wand was required, and decided to buy one, but not use it. She'd figured out a while ago that her 'magic' was intent-driven, so when she talked to one of her contacts in Diagon Alley, which she'd found not long after she realized that she needed help with controlling the bursts of unexplained happenings around her whenever she got upset, she found out that something that hadn't happened in a while from what she could tell was happening. The Tri-Wizard Tournament. And, from what she'd heard from the contact in question, was that it was happening at this 'Hogwarts' place.

That decided her, as she slipped around Diagon Alley, thankful for her ability to draw in large funds after her last performance, and soon slipped back out, but not before placing an order with the witch at the counter, even going so far as to slap an image onto the desk. "I want the cloth of this outfit done, including everything you can get detail-wise," she said. "I'm planning another performance, but the set-up is just as important. If this is as good as my expectations hope, then expect an influx of orders from yours truly."

The witch behind the counter blinked a few times, looked at the image, and nodded. "We can do that, Miss Dreadfire. When do you want it finished and delivered?" she asked.

"As soon as possible," said Alea, calmly. "Remember, set-up is everything, and I highly doubt I'll be able to get a crew of breakdance-ready street rats into a school for magic. Which means that I have to teach students to breakdance."

The witch nodded again in understanding. "We'll be waiting."

"Good," said Alea with a smile, before stepping outside of Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and heading to Gringotts, bowing to the goblin outside, and stepping into the bank itself. She looked around, scanning for an unoccupied teller, another image of the idea she'd had in hand. She spotted one, and quickly made her way over, bowing respectfully to the goblin.

"I have a business proposition, master teller, and I came here with the desire to create a masterpiece with the help of the Goblin Nation," she said, deciding to be up-front.

"Oh? Do tell, Miss Dreadfire." The teller leaned forward curiously. Radiant Eclipse was heard of in the Goblin Nation's tunnels beneath Gringotts, and as such, rumors of her performances and business propositions were wide-spread.

She set the image on the desk in front of him. "I intend to have a copy of this outfit by the time my next stage is set," she said, simply. "My goal is fairly simple and very complex at the same time." Her slightly oriental blue eyes met the teller's. "I intend on making a bunch of schoolyard brats get up to snuff for this performance, and it has to be ready by the upcoming event."

"Which event, may I ask?" asked the teller, curiosity almost eating the poor goblin.

"Not the Quidditch World Cup," she said simply, which cleared up his confusion, and made him giddy. "I want this set-up and ready to go by the time Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrive at Hogwarts."

"And what would you ask of the Nation?"

"Only the armor," she said, a slight smile on her face. "Of course, if your blacksmiths feel that that isn't enough of a challenge, then the hidden blades for this outfit as well. All of the armor will be fitted over the robes, with the exception of the greaves, which will go over the boots. Understand, master teller, I intend to be able to move fluidly and gracefully in this outfit." The goblin's eyes brightened considerably at the deadline and the project.

"And what will the Nation gain out of this endeavor?" he asked carefully.

A smirk crossed Alea's lips. "I will involve the Goblin Nation in all of my dealings when it comes to my performances, and for the armor and blades, as well as my banking, will all lie with Gringotts Bank. A... hm... sixty-seven percent share in my performances. I will not let the Goblin Nation down as you have been before, no doubt."

The teller examined the image carefully, before a toothy grin made it's way across the goblin's face. "We accept, and look forward to your upcoming performance."

Horizontal Rule

There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when Harry awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as he got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt; they would change into their school robes on the Hogwarts Express.

He, Ron, Fred, and George had just reached the first-floor landing on their way down to breakfast, when Mrs. Weasley appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed and no little overwhelmed, which confused the four of them

"Arthur!" she called up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry! We also have a guest, who calls herself Radiant Eclipse!"

Harry's jaw dropped. Radiant Eclipse, the street rat superstar? Was here? Harry bolted downstairs, Mr. Weasley on his heels. When Harry and the others entered the kitchen, they saw Mrs. Weasley rummaging anxiously thought the drawers – "I've got a quill here somewhere!" – and Mr. Weasley bending over the fire, talking too –

Harry shut his eyes hard and opened them again to make sure that they were working properly.

Amos Diggory's head was sitting in the middle of the flames like a large, bearded egg. It was talking very fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying around it and the flames licking its ears.

"... Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems – please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there-"

"Here!" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr. Weasley's hands as Harry looked around, spotting a girl with surprisingly short hair, oriental-looking blue eyes, a very tall stature as far as Harry could tell, standing somewhere between five feet eleven inches, or six feet even. She was tanned, and quite lithe, like she was used to hours of strenuous activity at a time. She spotted Harry looking at her and grinned, waving.

"Are you Radiant Eclipse?" he asked, curiosity breaking through.

She looked startled, but started laughing. "That's mah street name, yeah," she said, grinning. "Name's Alea Dreadfire."

Harry, Ron, and the twins ignored Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Mrs. Weasley as they talked to Alea, when Ron finally asked what was up with the nickname.

"I'm a street legend," she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck and looking away. "I'm known for street performances that would break most banks with little effort, and every performance is always worth millions. My last performance probably netted me a gross..." she hummed, thinking, "I'd say around a solid million, if the sheer amount of money was any indication. My Gringotts Vault is so full of gold, I may as well call myself the richest woman in Britain, but it doesn't matter to me."

That caught the four of them off-guard. "Doesn't matter to you? Why not?"

"My performances aren't for me," she said simply. "I do it for the people and to have fun. The money is only a means to an end, one that just happens to be extremely profitable and made me one helluva celebrity in the non-magical world." She blushed. "I think my net worth totaled in the trillions."

It was silent nearly all the way to the train station.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it. . . ."

"A bit of what?" said Ron.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied almost all of them toward the train doors, Alea already inside a compartment.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"oh, it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but. . . . well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with. . . . One thing and another."

"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting – mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules –"

"What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.

Alea, meanwhile, was muttering thanks for no reason as far as anyone else could tell, as she shoved her trunk up into the luggage rack, and sat down, a small smile on her face. "Oh, I can't wait for the performance..." she said, smiling. "The set-up's going to be a pain, mind you, but the performance will so be worth it!" She squee'd softly, before settling down.

"What do you mean, 'performance?' Are you planning something for Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, curiously.

Alea nodded, her excitement evident. "I know exactly what's going to happen, as well as a rough timeline, thanks to a few fans in the Ministry," she admitted. "The timing is seriously important with this. We're expecting two more schools, as well as introduction sequences. If my performance plays out as well as I pray it will, Hogwarts will not only have an intro sequence, but it's going to be the longest and best of them."

"Two schools?" asked Harry curiously. "I thought there was only Hogwarts."

"There's magic worldwide, Harry," said Hermione. "I've done the research. Beauxbatons is the French school, and Durmstrang is the Bulgarian school." She turned to Alea. "How can you be so sure they're coming here?"

Alea smirked. "Having Ministry contacts means much in the entertainment biz," she replied.

"Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing a finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs. Harry, Ron, and Alea listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

"... Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore – the man's such a Mudblood-lover – and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do..."

Hermione was about to get up to close the door, but Alea stopped her with a smirk. "Just watch the fireworks," she said, before getting up and walking out of the compartment.

She stepped into the compartment with Draco and his goons, scanned the room, and snorted. "If this is the best that the Magical World can offer me, then I don't know why I even bothered coming. Off the street biz and to the Magical World, and I get this pack of idiots to entertain," she said, her voice flat and derisive.

As she'd expected, the Purebloods all puffed up, Draco was the worst, though, the platinum-blonde ponce jumped up and got in her face. "Who do you think you're calling an idiot, Mudblood?" he snarled.

Alea raised an elegantly sculpted eyebrow at him. "You really asking me that question, fool?" she asked simply.

The loaded statement pissed him off. "I swear, Mudblood, when I find out who you are, you're going down the drain so fast you won't know what hit you," he snarled.

"Calm down, fool," Alea wasn't even bothering trying to hide the fact that he was amusing her. "I'm a street celebrity in both the non-magical world and the magical. I also have enough gold in my Gringotts Vault to buy your entire family out from under you. My name, as you have yet to ask, is Alea Dreadfire. To the world at large, I am Radiant Eclipse."

Draco snorted at that, but Pansy's gasp grabbed his attention. He turned toward her. "You know this Mudblood, Pansy?" he asked.

"I know of her, Draco," replied Pansy, who was staring in startled shock at Alea. "She's the London street superstar, known for performances on the street that have been able to generate some serious revenue. Net worth totals in the trillions, and no one knows what her bank account is, but her performances look to be worth hundreds of thousands, if not hundreds of millions of galleons in just preparation work." Pansy was looking at Alea with a cross of awe and curiosity. "And yet, no one's been able to tell how so many of her projects are a hit, since there's almost never any inkling of warning beforehand."

Draco's eyes widened in startled disbelief as he heard of Alea's past exploits from Pansy. Alea smiled, passing an image over to Pansy, who gave a fangirl squeal and glomped her, much to Alea's amusement. She looked around the compartment. "Anyone else want an image of my last performance?" she asked.

After passing out roughly twenty eight images, she walked back into the compartment with Ron, Hermione, and Harry, who were all staring at her in shocked surprise. "What?" she asked, sliding the compartment door closed.

"You are worth so much, and yet no one's been able to tell when a performance was about to happen?" demanded Hermione incredulously.

"Well, yeah," said Alea, tilting her head. "It's why I'm called Radiant Eclipse. I spring the performances on the most busy areas I can find. All the people who are late because of my performance just have to tell their bosses that it was the work of Radiant Eclipse, and –" she shrugged. "They don't get into trouble. As a matter of fact, my performances help stabilize the economy a lot."

Harry whistled lowly. "So you're the reason Vernon kept getting so much money at work," he said, much to Alea's surprise.

"That fat bastard was never at any of my performances. A few of my more profitable performances was actually sprung on the block surrounding Grunnings, it's the only reason I even know who he is," she said, frowning. "Looked like he had a helluva temper."

Harry nodded, looking away. Alea, poked him. "You forget, I lived on the streets. How do you think I even knew about Diagon Alley? I wander for a living, literally. The only reason I came to Hogwarts was because my inspiration was drying up. I needed new surroundings, there's only so many times that you can use the same city for a performance without it getting stale, you know?"

Harry nodded. "It must have been pretty rough," he said softly.

"It was. I still don't know who my parents were," she admitted. "But, I made a name for myself, so whoever they were, they're probably proud of me, even if it's just admiration." A sad look crossed her face. "You can't miss what you never had, after all."

Hermione's hands covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and horror. Alea saw it out of the corner of her eye. "Don't you dare give me that look," she warned her, her voice flat. "I stopped looking, instead preferring to give to the people in my own way. Many of the street rats that joined in became like family to me, so when I explained to them my reasoning, they agreed with me, but on one condition." She actually laughed. "That the first performance I do at Hogwarts, they get in on. I agreed, and talked to the Goblins. So, the first performance is going to be all professionals. Expect about two hundred street rats to appear along with some serious baggage."

Hermione and Harry's eyes nearly popped out of their faces at the number. "There're two hundred orphans and runaways on the streets of London?" they demanded simultaneously.

Alea nodded. "You only see maybe twenty if you're lucky," she said. "They're good at hiding, but my crew make a living with me. They're my fellow performers, and I would trust each of them with my life." A happy smile crossed her face. "I'm looking forward to seeing them, to be entirely honest."

"Wait," said Ron, a confused look on his face. "How will we know which one's which during the performance?"

Alea got a slightly evil smile on her face. "I'll be wearing a completely different outfit than the rest of them, and I'll be the one starting it," she replied. "Fair warning. Tell your Heads of House that Radiant Eclipse will be in one of them, and that if there's anything related to dancing, expect a performance."

Harry got a feeling that this year was going to be very, very different, and he didn't know if he was dreading that fact or ready to endorse it with everything he had. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, and saw similar looks on their faces.

This year was going to be interesting, and none of them knew if that was a good thing or a bad thing.