A/N: Patience is rewarded! Thank you all so much for putting up with my "Catching up to the AU" portion of this story. Here we get back to where I originally figured to drop you after the Prologue. My thanks to everyone who is reading and adding this story to your lists. And extra butterbeer for all who are reviewing!

Hermione features prominently beginning here. Finally, right? I'm even posting early!

Remember, this is an AU. The times and dates and events and people are not guaranteed to be canonical in any way. This is your final warning . . . leave now if this is problematic for you.

* Welcome to 1996 and the Triwizard Tournament.*


Chapter One: Lord Black is . . . Worried

25 November 1996

The noise made Sirius cringe a bit as he approached the Champions' Tent outside of the arena near Hogwarts. His hearing would always be more acute than that which a non-Animagus possessed, but it wasn't normally a problem. For Remus, it would be. But his best mate and Harry's honorary uncle had a full moon to deal with that night and wouldn't be able to handle the Tournament.

So Sirius was facing the crowd alone, that day. His son had been a berk—a Marauder, through and through—and had been chosen as Hogwarts's Triwizard Champion. How, by Merlin's saggy drawers, had he managed that?

"There was just one trial, Dad," Harry had told him through the communication mirror. "Aside from having to have taken your O.W.L.s, that is."

"Just one?" Sirius had snorted. "What, see if you'd jump off the Astronomy Tower blindfolded?"

Harry had rolled his eyes. "No. Just our blood and a wand. Now, Dad," he'd said quickly, cutting off Sirius's protest, "it wasn't dark blood magic. Dumbledore said it was a test to assure him that we were willing to experience pain and uncertainty. So, I sliced open my palm and dipped my wand in my blood, and then wiped it off on a special piece of spelled parchment."

"And then what happened?" Sirius had almost been afraid to inquire.

Harry grinned, as if he hadn't a care in the world. "And the magic made my blood into my signature, as if I'd signed it myself!"

"In your own blood?"

Harry had mustered a serious expression from somewhere. "Yes. I know, it sounds a bit odd, but I healed up quickly. We all did. And then, we were able to try for the Goblet of Fire. If the Goblet accepted the parchment, there was this, this silver flame. Like a Patronus, Dad! And if not, well, you got knocked back on your arse."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Sirius had to chuckle. "In front of everyone?"

"Yeah. It was kind of embarrassing. Nev and Ron and I all tried. Ron got knocked back."

The Goblet had accepted Harry James Black's name, though, and on Hallowe'en night, it apparently offered it out to Albus as the Champion for the school.

A brisk wind blew Sirius's hair back from his face. The wind smelt of sulphur, grass, rain, and magic. He inhaled deeply, pleased enough to have layers of fabric to keep himself warm. He wore silver-shot black, head to toe, save for a Gryffindor Crimson waistcoat with golden buttons. He had learnt, over the years, to tread the line between being the Patriarch for the Ancient and Noble House of Black and a Gryffindor-Against-His-Family's-Wishes. Dragonhide boots completed his ensemble. He felt he would not embarrass his son at what was far more than merely a school event.

"Lord Black." Headmaster Albus Dumbledore drew near Sirius with an extended hand and warm smile. "Welcome to the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament." Sirius regarded his former professor and former boss tolerantly, taking in the deep blue robes with their silvery spangles, the silver metal woven into the snow-white beard, and the black velvet boots. "Your son has been an exemplary Champion to date."

"Harry's a good lad," Sirius replied with a proud nod. Then, he stepped back to allow Albus to move on graciously, but there was a slight delay. "What?" he inquired as Dumbledore's eyes narrowed with intent.

Albus leaned closer, on the obvious pretext of brushing a piece of lint of something from Sirius's own shoulder. "Watch Karkaroff."

The name was familiar and Sirius stiffened. "Bloody hell. He's here?" It took a deal of restraint not to look about for the dark Russian. The man had been a Death Eater. Granted, a cowardly one who had turned in his fellows, but still. A chill that hat nothing to do with a November in Scotland sank into Sirius's skin.

"He is the Headmaster at Durmstrang."

"Perfect. I will keep an eye open, Albus."

"Thank you." With a return to his customary affability, the headmaster of Hogwarts moved on to the next man outside the Champions' Tent. "Lord Krum." Albus offered the Bulgarian noble a sharp bow of the head. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Thank you," the hawk-nosed man said, his tone crisp. "Your arena appears to be well warded."

Albus smiled briefly. "We tried. Your son has made quite the impression as Champion. He's sure to do well, today."

Sirius remembered when he first saw Lord Krum's son, Viktor. It had been at the World Cup just a few months prior, and he and Harry had had seats in the Top Box. He'd mingled as expected and made sure that Harry had a souvenir from each team to wave about. Harry and Ron Weasley were mates, and even Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were sociable, so that Draco was as well. It had been a peaceful time until the chaos of the Death Eaters.

Had Karkaroff been there?

Narcissa had seen to it that the Blacks were no longer involved with the Death Eaters, at Sirius's bidding. It was good to wield active, useful influence. He grimaced at memories—reminders he'd kept active so as to never fall that far again—of his younger years. His years as a Marauder, that tightly knit bond of friends. Animagi and a werewolf. They'd been . . .

And then he'd betrayed Remus's trust. Before Peter betrayed them all, Sirius had betrayed Remus and that was . . . still . . . a hard thing to glance at in his mind. Even decades later. Oh, he and Remus were still very close, and had raised Harry together as a family until after Harry's second year here at Hogwarts, but those days were over as well.

Albus was turning to leave after having spoken with Lord Krum, and Sirius was struck by a lack. "Er, Albus?"

Eyes twinkling and alert, the older wizard smiled. "Yes, Sirius?"

"I noticed that the third Champion's family isn't here. Harry said that there was a girl from Beauxbatons."

"Ah, yes. Mademoiselle Granger." He cleared his throat and invited Sirius to walk beside him on the way to the viewing stands, near where the judges were. "We have special seats set aside for family, here, and you and Lord Krum are, of course, more than welcome." Sirius nodded politely at those who greeted him, including several professors as well as some of the students with whom he and Harry were acquainted. The Weasley twins were scampering off not too far away, weaving in and out, making book, it seemed to him.

He grimaced and hoped they did not approach him. He liked the boys, and their hero-worship of him and Remus was amusing and a bit gratifying on occasion, but he was not prepared to listen to any discussion of odds regarding the coming Task.

Cushions with the Hogwarts crest were waiting at the seats to which Dumbledore directed them. "Mademoiselle Granger's parents?" he said to prompt the headmaster.

"Yes. Well, they're Muggles, you see. So they aren't able to be here."

Sirius halted in the act of sitting down. "Pardon? Truly? A Muggleborn witch was chosen as a Champion?" He couldn't help but think of Lily, who would have kicked some serious arse as a Champion if the Triwizard Tournament had been held during their years at Hogwarts.

Albus gestured to the cushion, seating himself at the same time. "I know you aren't mired in blood prejudice, my boy. So why are you surprised?"

Blowing out a breath, Sirius scanned the ragged quarry that would serve as the arena for the upcoming Task. He was worried, dreadfully worried, for he knew what his son would be facing that day. But he couldn't let it show; too many eyes. Always too many bloody eyes were on him and on Harry. "Harry hadn't mentioned that the Beauxbatons Champion was Muggleborn," he said at length. "It must be hard for them, to have their daughter involved in such a tournament when they are unable to witness it."

"As to that, I really couldn't say. Minerva met them though, years ago when delivering a personal invitation to the girl to attend here."

More people were climbing the steps to fill in the seats available for the audience to what could be an obscene form of entertainment or an elaborate tragedy. Sirius schooled his expression, only allowing a small scowl as he took in the ridiculous excitement displayed by nearly everyone in attendance. Lord Krum strode rather magnificently to join them, with a dark, bearded man at his side. They spoke in some language Sirius didn't recognize, but it was harsh in accent.

It seemed odd to him that there were no Frenchmen around. The headmistress, to be sure, but all the rest of the Beauxbatons students were gathered in another section and Sirius couldn't hear them.

"So Minerva met her parents?" Sirius inquired belatedly.

Albus nodded, but stood and smoothed his beard. "She did indeed. However, Mademoiselle Granger was not willing to transfer. I must join the judges now, so I'll see you later. You are, of course, welcome to stay tonight after the Task. I'm sure Harry will enjoy having you. I'll make the Lord's Suite available."

Sirius nodded, but made a note to contact Moony on the mirror to see if he would have company for the full moon before he'd accept. Then he inhaled deeply to center himself as he let the weight of the day settle on his shoulders. He could feel the tension in the arena swirl and mount, climbing, well, like a dragon into the sky.

"Krum! Krum! Krum! Krum!" The chant reverberated through the arena, the syllable solid and nearly tangible as the students from Durmstrang called out their support for their Champion. Lord Krum stood and bowed to the young people, his back as stiff as an oak.

In contrast, the cheers for Sirius's own son were more raucous but less formal. "Har-ry! Har-ry! Har-ry! Har-ry!" It wasn't his surname, but from somewhere off to his right, he could hear the Weasley twins shout, "Take a bow, Padfoot!" They had owled him that they were going to be here, to support Harry in his Task. Well, Charlie the dragonologist was their brother; likely the twins knew what Harry would facing.

There was some scattered laughter; most of Gryffindor, at least, knew of his Animagus identity and Marauder name. Harry had always been proud of him. So, with a smile he knew was at least partly feigned, Sirius stood and waved a bit. A Marauder didn't bow, unless it was in fun with a chosen girl. The resultant applause warmed him a bit, easing the stress he felt for a heartbeat or two.

But then it was back, before he fully registered that he hadn't heard the French Champion's name. Because it was then that the Task got underway in full.

"Our three Champions will each be facing a dragon in order claim a golden egg which contains the most important clue for the Second Task."

The chill breeze that fluttered banners around the arena did not do anything for the sudden sweat on Sirius's forehead.

The first dragon was led out into the arena by none other than Charlie Weasley and a team of dragon handlers from Romania. Ludo Bagman, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, made full use of a Sonorus Charm as the audience seemed to take in a gulping breath that Sirius could swear was audible.

"And here, for our first Champion, we introduce the Romanian Longhorn! Those golden horns are beautiful, aren't they, but not as beautiful as our first champion, Mademoiselle Hermione Granger of Beauxbatons!"

"Beauxbatons! Beauxbatons! Beauxbatons!" The chant began with that school's contingent, but it spread a bit as the young woman stepped into the quarry-like arena. The Romanian Longhorn was not as big as some dragons Sirius had seen in his life—including the conjured ones that the Weasley twins had made for practice—but even chained she was big enough to make the Beauxbatons Champion appear unbearably tiny.

Will Harry look that small when it's his turn? Merlin. James, Lily, I should have homeschooled him!

The Champion made a mad dash right under the dragon's throat before turning sharply and continuing to run around the entire outline of the huge, scaled body. Shouts and even jeers rose from the stands as she did so.

"What the bloody hell?"

The dragon roared, thrashing her tail so hard that it cut sharp slices off the surrounding stone.

"She's going to get crushed!"

"Gordon Bennett, the girl's got big brass ones!" That was from one of the Honorary Marauders—Sirius thought it was George. He knew their voices better than the voices of the other Weasley sons. And he was inclined to agree with him.

The Champion continued to run even as the Romanian Longhorn started to get agitated, making growling noises and arching its neck back and forth and around while it moved within the confines of the chain. The girl's wand was out and she was clearly using it for some purpose. She wore a tight suit of what appeared to be body armor—did she really have dragonhide?—in a dark blue color that matched her ankle boots.

"What is Mademoiselle Granger doing?" Bagman asked in his enhanced, rounded tones. "Oh, look! The dragon is turning! She's going to flame!"

This last was obvious and even the Weasley twins were shouting at the girl to get away as the Longhorn drew her head up and inhaled deeply, so that her tawny chest grew before their eyes. The girl ran, actually leaping on the dragon's claw and scrambling up its haunches. The Longhorn screeched, her tail lifting high into the air as she seemed about to flame her own body to rid herself of the human.

Just as the dragon opened her jaws, Granger rolled off and under, continuing to wave her wand about and shouting, "Committo!" before the tail swept her off her feet.

She landed on her back and rolled over the edge of the rock shelf she'd been standing on. The Longhorn spun, her chain scraping the rock as the dragon once again expanded her chest and throat to flame.

A young man shouted incredulously, "She's not even watching!"

"I can't look, I can't!" a girl called, her voice thin and high.

Sirius darted a glance toward the half-giantess who'd been introduced as the Headmistress for Beauxbatons. The woman was leaning forward over the festooned table with the other judges, her hands clasped before her face. Almost as if she were a Muggle at prayer.

What did they teach at Beauxbatons, anyway?

The Champion tucked her wand into the thick braid she wore about her head as she climbed up a steep slope to where the golden egg gleamed in the pale light of the late autumn day. Sirius found himself holding his breath, counting his heartbeats, sure that the mademoiselle would be charred in the next one.

The roar, when it came, was tremendous. The accompanying gout of orange-white flame made him wince. He opened one eye, slowly, as the arena went absolutely quiet.

She had to be dead. He felt his chest hurt, just thinking it. Still he swallowed back bile and searched the arena, expecting to see a petite pile of ash or a blackened human figure.

"Merlin! The girl warded the bloody dragon!"

Sirius felt his eyes bug out—he'd heard that expression before, but never knew what it meant until that moment. "What?" he said, gasping.

A shimmer in the air surrounded the Romanian Longhorn, and the dragon herself appeared a bit singed about the wing and the tip of her tail, but she was still feisty enough to shift her body. Granger, the Champion, achieved her goal whilst the dragon built up more flame.

With a huge smile, Granger hefted the egg over her head before tucking it next to her body and rolling down the other side of the slope. She landed, retrieved her wand from where it had slipped, and dashed toward the gated exit from the quarry-like arena. Her face was scraped, her hands bleeding, but otherwise, she appeared unharmed.

The Longhorn roared again, but without flame. Sirius supposed she knew she'd lost.

The judges all gave the Granger girl their marks. "Excellent use of warding, ten points," Dumbledore proclaimed.

"Bravery and agility, ten points," Madame Maxime declared.

Sirius was a bit surprised when Durmstrang's headmaster nodded slowly. "Slow. The Champion was slow and almost lost wand. Five points." Sirius focused and could swear he heard the man mutter, "Mudblood," under his breath.

Bleeding Death Eater.

The other judges stared at him in patent disbelief, and the students from Beauxbatons hissed as if they were a nest of bloody vipers.

"Our next champion will be met by none other than a Norwegian Ridgeback! A dangerous dragon for a dangerous Durmstranger, Viktor Krum!"

Sirius didn't have the same emotional investment in Krum's confrontation with the Ridgeback. Perhaps, he'd reflect later, it was due to Granger being female. Perhaps because she had been the first. Perhaps because she had seemed more vulnerable, with the figure-hugging bodysuit and . . .

She's a student, Padfoot, he admonished himself. Stop it.

Krum received twenty-seven points to Granger's twenty-five. There was quite a break before the final dragon was presented, and Sirius felt himself start to sweat again. Heavily.

His heart pounded, his hands even shook a bit as he gripped the armrests of his cushioned seat behind the judges. Lord Krum, next to him, had been every bit as nervous when his son was facing a dragon, so Sirius tried not to feel emasculated when he had to literally force himself not to scream, "Harry! Get your arse up here!" as soon as his son appeared at the shadowed Champions' Entrance to the arena.

A Hungarian Horntail awaited him. Sirius wanted to vomit.

"And our final Champion, representing Hogwarts herself, is Harry Black!" The stands went mad, and Sirius felt his nausea abate somewhat to hear the unabashed support his son received from his schoolmates. He blew out a hard breath and hoped to Merlin that Harry was ready.

"I heard it was going to be dragons, Dad, so it's a good thing me and Nev have practiced, yeah?" Harry had whispered via the communication mirror. "Hagrid showed me. Madame Maxime knew as well; I saw them. And did you know that Hagrid and Maxime might be an item?"

Half-convinced his son was in jest about the dragons, Sirius had shaken his head. "So how're you going to get around a dragon? Fly?"

"Dad! That's a brilliant idea!"

Sirius looked for a broom, but Harry didn't have one with him. Had he performed a Shrinking Charm on one? It didn't appear to be the case. Sirius recalled that neither of the other Champions had had anything other than a wand, either. Bloody hell, what's Harry going to do?

The Horntail was furious, that was clear. She was thrashing her tail and flaring her wings as if she'd break her chain and fly. With very little warning, she let loose a blast of flame and Sirius shouted as Harry dove behind a boulder to shield himself. Sirius flicked his wand to his hand; he would not see his son turned into a shish-kabob!

"Accio Firebolt!" Harry shouted before dashing around the fire-blacked boulder and up toward where the new golden egg rested. Sirius could barely draw a breath as Harry darted hither and yon, evading the wild movements of the Horntail whilst keeping an eye on the sky.

Had the broom been too far away? Had his son been able to Summon it at all?

"Oh! No!"

"Harry!"

"Bloody hell, Black!"

From somewhere, a girl screamed in terror and Sirius had all he could do not to leap into the arena himself and distract the dragon so his son could get away. James, he was sure, would have done so.

Lily wouldn't have hesitated. After all, she hadn't before.


A/N: So now you've seen Hermione. Hope you liked her big entrance! She'll have lots to say later this week. I'm thinking Thursday, since VIKINGS is over until Season Five.