Chapter 10

It was no secret that the next morning's newspapers would arrive to wizarding homes all over Europe bursting with the tales of the events at the arena in Hogwarts. It was also no secret that the status quo, politically and socially, was going to be blown apart by said events. But for now, life carried on, though already drastically altered.

After leaving the arena behind them, Harry and company brought Harcia back to the temporary enclosure where she would be held until their departure the next morning. Harry promised a rather downtrodden Horntail that they will meet again soon.

As they left the enclosure after bidding Charlie and Harcia farewell, Nicolae turned to Harry.

"Harry, where will you stay when you become a dragon-handler?"

"Well, I have three options."

"Three?" Uliana asked.

"Yep, first is the reserve," Harry counted his finger. "If for whatever reason that is not possible, I can crash at your place Nicolae, since you're from Romania, or I can just stay with Viktor. Bulgaria is just south of Romania, and international portkey travel, no matter how much I hate the feeling, shouldn't take that long."

Harry sounded absolutely nonchalant when saying this. Viktor, though, wasn't feeling so calm. The thought of him and Harry living together sent his heart squealing loudly and allowing a blush to spread across his face.

Harry appeared oblivious to Viktor's predicament, but his clique certainly wasn't. Even the Bulgarian seeker's famous death-glare did nothing to stop the snickering and gentle ribbing whispered so that Harry wouldn't hear.

They returned to the medical tent to retrieve Viktor's egg that he left behind. Madam Pomfrey was beside herself with worry after personally witnessing Harry hurl himself onto Harcia's back and fly into the sky on said Horntail, and insisted on giving the fourth-year a full medical scan for any injuries. Apart from some minor cuts and bruising, Harry was fine, which prevented another stay in the hospital wing, much to his relief.

After being dismissed by a stunned Madam Pomfrey, who could still be heard muttering about the insanity that is dragons being brought to Hogwarts as they left, the group were joined by the Weasley twins and Luna outside the tent. They trooped back to the Durmstrang ship for some much needed rest before dinner together in the Room of Requirement.

But it seemed that any rest they could get was not to be.

The entire Durmstrang delegation were on the top deck. Seeing the group step on board triggered a deafening chorus of cheers, clapping and whistles. Harry and Viktor found themselves swarmed by the students, shouts of congrats reaching their ears and hearty slaps delivered onto their backs.

What surprised Harry was that he was being congratulated. Even though Viktor was their champion, the Durmstrang students still treated him to a hero's welcome. Harry thought it was due to his death-defying stunts with Harcia, but in reality, the Durmstrang students treated fair competitors with honour and respect, and they truly believed that Harry did a marvellous job procuring his golden egg. Taming a ferocious Horntail was an added bonus.

Harry and company were dragged below deck to a large room, where a party awaited them. Platters of food sat at a large table against a wall, as well as bottles of butterbeer and what looked like vodka.

The room was quickly filled with noise and chatter as the food and drinks were heartily attacked. Harry found himself a large audience – Viktor and his friends, the Weasley twins and Luna included – all wanting to hear the tale of riding a raging Horntail into the sky and not getting himself killed.

Harry spared no detail. With the aid of translation charms, he had his audience raptured, retelling wrestling Harcia and trying to steer her in the air. There was a loud 'thud' as one of the students, a big, surly-looking male, keeled backwards and fainted when Harry recounted nearly losing his footing when Harcia's tail destroyed a turret roof. Viktor had gone deathly pale hearing the entire experience, and it took another tight hug with Harry to settle his frantic heart and to reassure himself that his friend was still alive.

One could literally feel the respect rise in the room. Harry's aspiration to become a dragon-handler was met with nods of approval and offers to loan him books on dragons and dragon-handling. The conversation then drifted off for a short while after Harry's storytelling ended, allowing the fourth-year to get some much-needed food into his system and chat with his friends.

Suddenly, someone called in accented English, "Potter! Krum! Can ve see the golden eggs?"

The two eggs, which had been sitting innocently at a quiet corner of the room, were brought forth to admiring eyes. Suddenly, Harry realized he didn't know what the egg was for.

"Does anyone here know what is the egg for?"

"Bagman announced earlier that the egg contains the clue to the second task," Anastazja replied.

Harry noticed that the top part of the egg could be opened. Without a thought, he unclicked the hatch, and opened it.

Big mistake.

What could only be described as an infernal screaming from the depths of hell blasted into the room. Harry dropped the egg as if it was burning hot. Moans and shouts of pain joined the screams, ears hurriedly plugged and those not fast enough on the floor reeling with ringing eardrums. Barely heard over the unholy din, the room's portholes shattered with a tinkle, along with more than a few beverage bottles.

"Shut it!" Fred shouted, "Somebody shut that Merlin-forsaken thing!"

Luna, who appeared to be merely annoyed by the ear-splitting screams than in agony, was the first to the egg. She peeked into the egg, before clamping it shut with a shrug.

With the sudden cutting of the noise, sighs of relief echoed from all parts. Those on the floor slowly picked themselves up, eardrums still ringing.

"That…vas absolutely dreadful," Klaus muttered, eyes wide.

His sentiments were shared by every single person in the room. Harry was just recovering from nearly going deaf when an important question blinked into his thoughts.

"Luna, did you see if there was anything inside the egg that might be the clue?"

"No Harry, it was empty," the dreamy blonde shook her head, before turning thoughtful, "Although, I could have missed something, since it was a quick peek. Maybe I should I check aga-"

Her innocent offer was quickly rebuffed by shouts of the many different lingual forms of the word "NO!"

Meanwhile, back in Hogwarts castle, a different set of screams were going off. These screams, though, didn't sound like they were dragged from the fiery pits of hell. They sounded more like the harsh bellows from a certain Scottish head-of-house, Professor McGonagall.

If Harry had torn the Gryffindors to shreds in the arena, the outraged transfiguration professor pretty much obliterated what was left of them.

Having heard Harry's diatribe, a disbelieving McGonagall assembled her entire house (save for Ron, who was lifted away on a stretcher by Madam Pomfrey to the hospital wing) into the common room, and demanded answers.

The growing look of absolute, scathing fury on the professor's face cowed everyone, no one wanting to set off the explosion that was their head-of-house by admitting that they wrongfully exiled one of their own. In the end, it was one of the portraits who spilled the beans, and unleashed McGonagall's wrath on the defenceless lions.

"I AM ASHAMED OF ALL OF YOU! YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO GRYFFINDOR! I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT YOU LOT WOULD EVEN DARE TO BEHAVE IN SUCH AN OUTRAGEOUS, DESPECABLE MANNER! KICKING ONE OF YOUR OWN OUT OF THE HOUSE, ON BASELESS ACCUSATIONS FURTHERMORE, IS ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING!"

The Gryffindors definitely felt disgusting, at themselves. They expected no forgiveness from McGonagall once the secret was out. But that did nothing to ease the verbal blows raining down hard on their already ruined spirits. And the professor was nowhere near done.

"ALL OF YOU WILL BE SERVING DETENTIONS UNDER ME FOR THE NEXT MONTH! AND I DON'T CARE THAT GRYFFINDOR'S HOUSE POINTS ARE IN THE NEGATIVE, FOR YOUR ATROCIOUS BEHAVIOUR, 50 POINTS ARE TAKEN FROM EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU! AND YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT ANY HOGSMEADE TRIPS THIS YEAR!"

In the Great Hall, Gryffindor's hourglass shot down even deeper into the red, even further than Slytherin, into territory never before seen in Hogwarts history. By the time the crash had stopped, the house of lions were several thousands below negative.

"IT IS A MIRACLE THAT MR. POTTER WAS NOT KILLED OUT THERE TODAY. IF HE HAD, THERE WILL BE NO FORGIVENESS FOR ANYONE OF YOU!"

It went unsaid, although everyone knew without a doubt, that even though Harry had survived, there would be no forgiveness for them from him. And it seemed that earning McGonagall's forgiveness would take years to reconcile.

The Scottish professor's screams finally abated, but her anger did not. Unable to even glance at her charges for a moment longer, she stormed out of the common room, leaving the lions to stew in their remorse and self-pity.

At the same time, someone else was stewing in their thoughts. But this person was far from being self-piteous or remorseful. In fact, he was…worried?

That person, a certain Albus too-many-middle-names Dumbledore, slightly hunched over his desk in his repaired office. Fingers interlocked and pressed lightly against his lips, the headmaster brooded over the events of that day, growing increasingly unsettled with each passing second.

He had planned meticulously for this particular year. Dumbledore knew that dark times were rapidly approaching, through his meetings with his death eater spy, Snape. The Dark Mark was getting clearer, albeit only minutely. Dumbledore had long known Voldemort hadn't really died that Halloween night in 1981, but it was only his findings over the summer holidays that proved conclusively that the Dark Lord was set to return this very school-year. After all, he knew someone on Voldemort's side had tampered with the goblet to make Harry's name appear. And it was what he wanted, it was a small part of his plan for the greater good of magical Britain.

Everything had gone accordingly so far. Dumbledore had been instrumental in manipulating Harry's life ever since he left the boy at the doorstep of the Dursleys' home. He had known the Dursleys were prejudiced against magic, deliberately letting Harry suffer years of neglect and abuse to make him compliant and vulnerable, seeking out anyone who would treat him nicely.

Dumbledore took on the role, adopting a grandfatherly persona to appear as Harry's saviour from a years of systematic abuse in an attempt to erode his independence and self-will. Harry was meant to be groomed to love the Light, despise the Dark, and to fight the Dark Lord upon his return. His social circle was carefully manipulated so that only those with fervent standings in the Light side would be his friends, and all Dark-sided individuals kept away as enemies.

It had worked initially. Harry found his first friend in Ronald Weasley, dim-witted but fanatically ensconced in the Light and hating all that was Dark. Dumbledore orchestrated the events of the past three years, setting the obstacles towards the fight with a Voldemort-possessed Quirrell, leaving Harry to fight the basilisk and destroy Tom Riddle's horcrux, and preventing Sirius Black from taking Harry into his custody through manipulation, lies and controlling the strings from behind the scenes.

But the summer of this year, saw the first crack in the foundations of Dumbledore's meticulous plan for Harry's role in defeating Voldemort and ensuring a Light-sided magical Britain through the fourth-year succeeding him as the leader of the Light.

Harry had become friends with Bulgaria's seeker, Krum. And the two had been inseparable ever since. Dumbledore had been surprised to see how close they've become back in October, seeing how tightly they embraced one another after the delegations had arrived.

And from there, more cracks appeared.

Dumbledore watched with growing horror as Harry slowly, but surely, slipped away from his grasp. From the moment his name came out of the goblet, things started going downhill.

What should have been a plan to have Harry become reliant and vulnerable by taking advantage of Ronald's jealousy and stupidity resulted in the redhead suffering serious injuries and several days in the hospital wing. What should have been a desperate Harry struggling through the ostracizing by his housemates and schoolmates saw him team up with Krum and destroy anyone who got in their way, if the Potter Stinks badges were any indication.

The only good thing from this period was Harry taking the advice from Dumbledore's old friend, Moody, to use his Firebolt in the first task, only for the Horntail to ruin everything by breaking free of her restraints and going on a rampage. The aurors reported a total of 57 killed either in the stampede or burnt to a crisp by the dragon's flames, and over two hundred injured. To make an already dire situation worse, about half of the casualties, both dead and injured, came from mainland Europe to watch the tournament.

Dumbledore knew full well the repercussions headed his way. Once the story breaks, people will be calling for his blood, for restarting the tournament in the first place and the reason why dozens of families have lost someone dear to them and will have caskets delivered to their doorsteps. He would be branded as the scapegoat by the international community, and who knows how far he would fall by the time the political and social fallout had ended.

There was nothing he could do to stop this incoming storm. He could only hope, after all this, that he would at least maintain his position of headmaster of Hogwarts.

Harry, on the other hand, had no such troubling thoughts occupying his head. After nearly losing his hearing thanks to the egg, Harry and Viktor decided unanimously to put everything about the tournament aside for the time being. After all, they had another three months or so before the second task, now was a time for that much-needed rest.

The next day, though, was clearly not as peaceful as Harry would have liked. Although it initially had to do with the seismic things that were happening in Europe as news the chaos during the first task reached wizarding families across the continent, and rumours that Dumbledore had been summoned by the International Confederation of Wizards to answer for the tragedy the day before, it came from somewhere more local, in the very castle he still roamed during daylight hours.

He still avoided the Great Hall for meals, but he could not avoid any encounters he had with his schoolmates in lessons or in any part of the school.

There was no need for the drawing of wands this time round. These encounters were a mixed bag of congratulations and apologies of varying degrees of sincerity, mainly pertaining to the badges and ostracizing prior to the first task.

Harry responded with a stoic voice and icy-cold tones. He acknowledged most apologies, but there was to be no forgiveness to be dished out. Any congratulations and attempts at conversation were ignored. No more was he going to let them take advantage of his goodwill that they so definitely did not deserve.

The entirety of Gryffindor house was also ignored by Harry. Any word uttered, no matter the context, was snubbed. Harry simply pretended they didn't exist. Not even Hermione was spared the ice-cold treatment, brushed aside like dandruff on one's shoulder.

But there was one other person Harry would have loved to chat with but haven't been able to do so since this entire mess that was the tournament. In fact, Harry had completely forgotten about him until it quite literally busted the door in his memory and kicked him into realizing…

"Shite! Sirius!"

It happened in Viktor's cabin, the night after the first task. The Bulgarian seeker watched Harry questioningly as the fourth-year dove for his trunk, pulling out a sheet of parchment before rushing for the desk.

"Harry, vhat's got your knickers all tvisted?"

"I need to write a letter," Harry replied only half-attentively, "Merlin, I hope Sirius is okay…"

"Vho's Sirius?"

It was that question that made Harry freeze. It dawned on him that he had never let Viktor in on about his godfather.

"Viktor, could you ward the door and put up the privacy charms, this is a secret that cannot leave this room."

The seeker complied, hearing how serious his friend sounded. Once the spells had been cast, Viktor turned back to Harry, expecting a response.

"Viktor, when I tell you who he is, I beg you to let me finish first, then questions later, okay?"

Viktor nodded.

"…so he's actually innocent?"

Harry spent the next twenty minutes giving Viktor a rundown of his godfather's backstory, how he had been framed for the murder of twelve muggles, thrown into Azkaban without a trial, how they almost managed to prove his innocence, and how Sirius is now on the run with a "dementor's-kiss-on-sight" target on his head.

"Yes, the real culprit was Peter Pettigrew," Harry explained, "He got away last year before we could prove Sirius' innocence, all down to bad timing and luck. That was when I also had to face off those hundred dementors."

Viktor felt naturally overwhelmed. There was just so many things in Harry's story that made his heart drop into his stomach. He could only imagine the trauma his friend went through. One dementor was bad enough, a hundred swarming towards you might as well mean the end of the world.

"So vhere is he now?"

"I don't know, we never ask for his safety," Harry replied, "I used to write to him quite regularly, but when the tournament happened, there was just so many things going on, and I completely forgot about him. Merlin…he must be so worried…"

"I vould be," Viktor remarked, "I vould be losing my shit if I heard my godson vas forced to vrestle a Horntail back to sanity."

"I know, that's why I need to write to him now," Harry returned to the blank parchment, "to at least let him know that I'm fine."

Soon, the sound of conversation turned to the scratching of a quill upon parchment. As Harry thought about what to write to his godfather, Viktor fell into deep thought. Several minutes passed, and Viktor was suddenly hit by a brainwave.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Vhat time does Gringotts close?"

One hell of a lot of planning and a long letter sent by Velia later, Harry and Viktor were waiting next to the gangplank leading up to the Durmstrang ship for the arrival of their contact. Everyone else had already gone to bed or were in the process of doing so. The November chill had definitely set in, thank Merlin for warming charms, and considerate seeker friends loaning a fur coat as an extra measure.

Harry casted a tempus charm.

"It's almost half past ten, I hope he gets here on time."

Viktor silently nodded, it was no secret how anxious the both of them were. If this plan fails, not only will Sirius get the Dementor's Kiss, but Boy-Who-Lived and Seeker of Bulgaria or not, they will be thrown into Azkaban for harbouring a fugitive.

Their plan had been to get Sirius out of the country with help from the goblins to the continent where he could get a proper trial and be exonerated for his false conviction. Now though, the plan rested on whether Sirius could get into Hogwarts without being spotted, where Harry and Viktor could then get him safely to Gringotts.

Half-past ten had been their agreed meeting time. But as time slowly ticked past, and no sign of his godfather anywhere, Harry was getting worried.

That is, until the sound of rustling foliage reached his ears.

It was rather hard to see in the moonless night, but thanks to the remaining glows of torches from the castle, Harry was able to spot a shape emerge from the bushes outside the Forbidden Forest, and slowly pad its way over towards the lake, trying to blend in with the darkness.

Harry lit up a faint Lumos at the tip of his wand. He waved it slightly, to catch the shape's attention. The shape paused, then moving towards their direction. As it neared, the faint light on Harry's wand finally revealed the features of this four-legged shape approaching them.

A large, black dog.

The dog came to a stop in front of them, eyes shining with barely repressed excitement.

"Hey Sirius," Harry whispered, "Glad to see you made it safely."

The dog leapt into the air, morphing into a man who had seen far better days. Once fully reverted back into human form, Sirius pulled Harry into a tight hug.

"Oh Merlin, Harry," the man rasped, "It's so good to see you again in person."

"It's good to see you too, Sirius."

Sirius released his godson from his grasp, turning to face Viktor.

"And you're Viktor Krum, I take it?"

"Yes Lord Black, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Sirius chuckled, "Call me Sirius, the Lord title makes me sound old."

The banter aside, the man had some heartfelt things to say, "Viktor, I can't thank you enough for looking after my godson."

"I have him to thank too. He saved my life at the Vorld Cup."

"Yes, I heard about that," Sirius nodded, "Great job catching the snitch by the way."

"Thank you."

Sirius turned to Harry, "And you…I should kick your arse for nearly giving this old mutt a heart attack hearing that you wrestled with an insane Horntail, flew on said dragon's back while destroying parts of Hogwarts, and soul-bonding with her just as she was about to finish you off while taking part in a deadly tournament. You didn't even write!"

"Sorry about that, there was a lot of shite happening then," Harry scratched his cheek, "And soul-bonding with Harcia was something I didn't expect to happen. Call it Gryffindor nobleness, but I was just trying to ensure people didn't die."

"Probably would have been more than the 57 that died if you didn't," Sirius conceded.

"Yes, that, and the fact that Viktor's friends were in the stands. One of them broke his arm during the stampede. They are close as friends to me as they are with him, and I couldn't just not try to prevent their untimely ends."

Harry may have spoken what he thought was right at that time, but his words squeezed Viktor's heart, making his stomach go all fuzzy hearing such noble words from his friend.

But sentimentalities aside, they had a mission to do.

"Harry, Sirius, ve need to get to the edge of the vards."

Their mission was now a go.

Thank Merlin for Harry's invisibility cloak. Using it as cover for all three of them ensured they remained hidden as they carefully inched their way outside of the Hogwarts wards. Once they felt the anti-apparition protections pass over them and fall away behind them, they were in the clear, for the moment.

Harry tucked away the cloak into his robes, and nodded his readiness for the next part of the plan.

First, Sirius spun on his heel and apparated away to the entrance of Gringotts. Once he was gone, Harry gripped Viktor's arm tightly and braced himself for what would be an unpleasant experience.

It was definitely an unpleasant experience, apparating across the country to Diagon Alley in London. The only good side of it was that it was relatively short. Still, that didn't stop Harry from nearly puking up his dinner once he and Viktor landed at the steps of Gringotts, Sirius by his side trying to help him settle his nausea.

"I think magical travel really hates me…"

"You just need practice, Harry," said Viktor.

Once Harry's stomach had settled, the third stage of the plan was in motion. Checking to ensure no one would spot them in the open, Harry took out his invisibility cloak and threw it over Sirius, hiding him from view. They climbed the steps, pausing to bow respectfully to the goblin warriors standing guard at the bank entrance. The goblins appeared surprised to be treated with such respect, but they nodded back before returning to their rigid, steely vigilance for any troublemakers.

Forty-five minutes to closing time, the bank was virtually devoid of magical folk. Only the goblin tellers were still at their desks, scribbling away at accounts books or passing scrolls to other goblins who went in and out of the main hall.

With that, Harry, Viktor and an invisible Sirius made a beeline for a random teller, who barely acknowledged them as they approached the desk.

"Yes?"

"Good evening, master teller," Harry greeted, "May your gold forever flow and your enemies' heads display your power."

The teller stopped writing, looking up to make eye-contact with the emerald-green eyes and famous lightning-bolt scar of arguably the first wizard to treat him according to goblin custom.

"Ah, Mr. Harry Potter, a very good evening to you too," the goblin put down his quill, "How may Gringotts be of service to you at this admittedly late hour?"

"May I check to see if accounts manager Griphook is available? We need to have an urgent audience with him," asked Harry.

"May I enquire the purpose of this last-minute meeting?" asked the teller.

Harry turned to Viktor, who nodded affirmatively.

"It's with regards to my godfather, Lord Sirius Black."

On cue, Sirius pulled off the invisibility cloak, revealing himself to the bank. Other tellers who had been half-listening in on the conversation were now staring at them, their work temporarily forgotten.

The teller dealing with Harry and company stared with eyebrows raised. But he regained his composure fairly quickly.

"Very well, I will call for Griphook, please wait right here, Mr. Potter."

Thanks in part to goblin efficiency, Harry, Viktor and Sirius found themselves with the Potter accounts manager Griphook in his office, served hot tea and explaining the plan to the interested goblin.

"I see," Griphook mused, "So you require Gringott's expertise in creating an international portkey that would allow Lord Black to escape British soil and get the trial he never had?"

"Yes, Master Griphook, that is our intention," Harry replied, firm in tone.

Inwardly though, Harry was nervous. Although Gringotts and the goblin nation were sovereign territory which the Ministry had no rights to lord over lest they wish to start another goblin rebellion, Harry still didn't know if the goblins would be willing to help a wanted fugitive escape the country and bring the ire of the Ministry down upon their shoulders.

His worries were quickly dashed aside with Griphook laughing.

"Oh this is priceless! I can expect Fudge to blow his top because this!"

"So you're…willing to help?" asked Harry tentatively asked.

"Of course we are, Mr. Potter," Griphook smiled maliciously, "If it meets pulling the rug out from Fudge's feet, or irritating the Ministry in general, Gringotts will always be willing to work with you, given the right price, that is."

Relief washed over Harry and company.

"So how does France sound like, Master Griphook? Do you think it is a safe country for Sirius to escape to?"

"Any country that isn't Britain would be safe, Mr. Potter," the goblin corrected, "Thanks in part to Grindelwald's reign of terror, Europe has always been strict when it comes to criminal justice."

"And since Britain vasn't affected by Grindelvald's tyranny, they have not adapted or changed as the rest of Europe had," Viktor added.

"Precisely," Griphook nodded, "So, Mr. Potter, I believe we can work something out on this, for the right price, I presume?"

"For my godfather, even if I had to give the entire Potter fortune, I would gladly do so," Harry replied resolutely.

As Griphook and Harry got down to business, Viktor turned to Sirius, "Your godson is really something."

"I know, that's why I'm so proud of him," Sirius replied, "And he's someone you should never let go of."

Viktor wholeheartedly agreed with that.

The portkey to the French Ministry of Magic in Paris was made in no time at all. Before leaving, Sirius shared one last hug with Harry, promising to return once he had been cleared of all charges. With a final glance at the two seekers and Griphook, Sirius grabbed the portkey, a rusty, old tinned sardine can, and disappeared with a 'pop'.

"You two should head back to Hogwarts," Griphook stated, "It would be most dreadful if you were caught out of bed."

"We will, thank you so much, Master Griphook, for your help," Harry bowed respectfully.

"Think nothing of it, see it as Gringotts' desire to further humiliate Dumbledore and the Ministry alongside the Boy-Who-Lived with his escapades with the Horntail," Griphook chuckled.

The two seekers were shown out of the bank, and once back in Diagon Alley, they disapparated together back to Hogwarts.

The next morning, as expected, all hell broke loose. The Daily Prophet had broken the news that Sirius Black, murderer of muggles and follower of You-Know-Who, had escaped Britain and fled to France the night before through portkey.

The newspaper wrote that upon arrival at the French Ministry of Magic, Black willingly gave himself up. Upon questioning, he revealed he was never given a trial for his perceived crimes. The French Ministry then "interfered with internal affairs of the British Ministry", as the newspaper called it, by holding an emergency meeting of the country's delegates and deciding that Black was to be given a proper trial with Veritaserum administered to uncover the truth. The trial saw Black given the truth serum, and subsequently declared innocent of all charges.

The Prophet also reported that the French ignored all demands of the British Ministry for the immediate repatriation of Black, even going as far as to release a statement, stating, "Due impart to the severe miscarriage of justice committed by the British Ministry of Magic thirteen years ago, and their incompetence in the organizing of the Triwizard Tournament at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that saw nine of our citizens coming home in urns or coffins, we hereby declare that no further contact between our two ministries will be established beyond an unofficial level until our counterparts across the channel have cleaned up their act and began functioning as a proper government to the magical people of Britain."

To throw salt into the open wound, the French Ministry also gave Black political asylum, renouncing his British citizenship and awarding him French citizenship instead. He could enter Britain's borders as a French citizen, and the British Ministry will have no power over him, lest they wish to start an international incident, which they came close to after the tragedy of the first task.

As Harry and his friends celebrated, Dumbledore was being attacked on all fronts. Just the day before, he was forced to attending a hearing at the ICW for what had happened during the first task. Every European country had at least one of their own citizens coming back dead due impart to the disaster. Their people had been outraged, demanding the blood of the one responsible.

That perceived guilt fell on Dumbledore's shoulders. Upon unanimous vote, the ICW stripped him of his title of Supreme Mugwump, and banished him from any position of power in the ICW for the rest of his life.

Dumbledore came back to Britain a beaten man, only for more blows to come following the story of Sirius Black being declared innocent by the French. The very morning the story broke; he was summoned to the Ministry.

The old wizard found himself being stared down by the entire Wizengamot and an irate Fudge. The disaster of the first task and Black's flight to France has made magical Britain the scourge of wizarding Europe. Like before with the ICW, people were looking for someone to blame, and Dumbledore found the target placed firmly on him.

It was another unanimous vote that saw the end of Dumbledore's political career.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," Minister Fudge proclaimed, "This Wizengamot has voted in favour of stripping you of your position as Chief Warlock. A vote to decide your successor will be held at a to-be-determined date. So mote it be."

Fudge banged his gavel down, hammering the final nail in the coffin that was Dumbledore's influence and power. He now only had the position of Hogwarts headmaster to his name, but for how long more, he didn't know. Dumbledore knew, as he left the Ministry a mere shadow of the man he once was, that if the board of directors would have their way, he would be out of Hogwarts in the blink of an eye.

No, he thought to himself. He couldn't afford to lose any more power now. The Greater Good of the country hung by a thread. He still needed to call the shots in Hogwarts, but he needed something to show that he was still a competent headmaster.

As he flooed back into his office, Dumbledore had a brainwave. If he played what few cards he had left right, this should save his position as headmaster.

To Be Continued.

Hey everyone, sorry for the wait, things are quite busy on my end. So we have the fallout from the First Task covered here, and the Yule Ball is expected to come up next.

It actually occured to me that I completely forgot about Sirius' involvement in GoF until now. So I decided to have him flee the country and further shake up the storm that has tossed Dumbledore from his pedestal and straight into the fire of his own undoing. One can only guess how much further he is going to fall at this rate.

I would like to thank mionka96, Adana3, SerenityMoonlight, Ina Bauer, wiccanjs1984, DS2010, mizzrazz72, TabbyMichelle, Mariko89, AlbusPW, Pixxiee, CraftyWizard86, branchkk (guest), tellus (guest), and the two guests who left reviews.

Once again, your feedback is greatly appreciated, and no flaming will be tolerated.

- SilentGhostWriter2017