Severus didn't see Amanda again until dinner that night, when the champions would be chosen. She was sitting next to him again, having walked in late it had been the only seat left. The eyes of every student in the hall were fixed on the goblet, which was now sitting in front of Dumbledore's chair, even the teachers sat tensely, watching, waiting. Only Amanda appeared calm.

"You don't look very worried," Severus whispered. She turned and raised an eyebrow, wondering why he was suddenly talking again.

"Being friendly again are we?" she asked coldly.

"They thought you were dead! How were we supposed to take the news that you were alive and just didn't bother to take the time and write?" he whispered furiously.

"I already told Dumbledore, I haven't been able to write."

"It's been nearly a year, and I'm supposed to believe that you've been unable to write in all that time?"

"You can either believe me or you can't, but that doesn't mean it isn't true." She turned away from him, leaving Severus to feel as if he'd been slapped once again.

"Why were you unable to write then?" he asked.

"I have been unwell."

"And now?"

"Better then before," she said quietly.

They turned back to the feast just in time to hear Dumbledore announce Viktor Krum as the Durmstrang champion. The hall erupted into cheers and Karkaroff could be heard shouting congratulations above the noise. Moments later the goblet shot forth another piece of parchment.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore "is Fleur Delecour!"

Severus recognized the girl who had been distressed that morning as she walked past them and out of the hall. Amanda groaned slightly.

"Not your first pick?" Severus asked. In answer she just gesture towards the other Beauxbatons who were now extremely distressed, two girls were even crying in each others arms.

"They have lost the honor and fame that would have come with being a champion," she said disgustedly. "So they will cry that they no longer have the chance to die for others entertainment." Severus chuckled at her.

"Have fun dealing with your upset students," he teased.

"Only you would laugh at that," she teased back. "Sadist."

"I'd say mentally backwards teenagers were a specialty of yours."

"That must be why we got along so well," she mused.

"Only because you were just as backwards as the rest of us."

"If so many of us were backwards then perhaps we were normal and it was just everyone else who had a problem."

"Try telling them that," he said. They chuckled quietly as the last piece of parchment flew out, bearing the name of the Hogwarts champion.

"Cedric Diggory!" The applause was deafening. Amanda was surprised, Amos's boy? It was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" he called happily. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count on all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champion every once of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real –"

The goblets fire had turned red again, distracting Dumbledore. A long red flame shot out, bearing another piece of burnt parchment. Dumbledore reached out and caught it almost automatically. He held it out and stared long upon the name it held before reading out –

"Harry Potter."

There was no cheering at the end of his words, only a deafening silence. Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet and swept past Ludo and Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly. After a moment he nodded.

"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

The confused boy stood up, stumbled slightly on his robes and walked forward until he stood right in front of Dumbledore. The old Headmaster gestured for him to walk through the door after the remaining champions.

As soon as the boy vanished the hall erupted in angry voices, the staff went ballistic, not knowing what to make of it. Mr. Bagman raced after the boy, disappearing through the door.

"Madame Maxime, Professor Karkaroff," said Dumbledore. "Mr. Crouch, Minerva, Severus, if you would all follow me." Madame Maxime motioned to Amanda.

"Come, Amy, we will see about this!" Amanda followed them in to find the original three champions staring at Mr. Bagman in shock.

"Madame Maxime!" cried a distressed looking Fleur. "Madame McGonagall! Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"

Madame Maxime drew herself up to her full height, the top of her head brushing the chandelier.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff. He reminded Amanda of Lucius, he smiled but his eyes were deadly blocks of ice. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions – or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" He gave a snort and a nasty laugh.

"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, her enormous hand resting on Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."

"We were under the impression that your age line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff. "Otherwise, we would have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no ones fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Severus. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here –"

Much like me, Amanda thought grimly.

"Thank you Severus," said Dumbledore firmly. He turned to Harry, who looked right back at him.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire Harry?" he asked calmly.

"No." Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" he asked, ignoring Snape.

"No," said Harry.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that-"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.

"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore replied politely.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Really, what non-sense! Harry could not have crossed that line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"

She shot an angry look at Professor Snape. Madame Maxime turned to Amanda.

"Professor McGonagall, what do you think of zis?" Amanda looked a little cross at having been thrown into the position of either staying loyal to the school she was currently employed at or vouching for the school she had grown up in.

"I have personally seen the Age Line in effect and do not believe Potter could have crossed it. I cannot attest to the boy's character, but if Dumbledore believes he did not ask an older student to do it for him then I would be inclined to believe him." Madame Maxime bristled but calmed herself at Amanda's cool words. "Perhaps Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, as our objective judges could shed some light on this predicament."

At this all eyes shifted to Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman and Amanda looked relieved.

Mr. Bagman looked to Crouch, who looked eerie and almost ill in the half darkness.

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, turning back to the professors as if the matter were now closed.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff, his smile gone. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue to add names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out – it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament-"

"In which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from near the door. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?" Moody had entered the room.

"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

"Don't you? It's very simple Karkaroff. Someone put Harry's name into the goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.

"I quite agree Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards –"

"If anyone's got reason to complain. It's Potter," growled Moody. "But… funny thing… I don't hear him saying a word…"

"Why should 'e complain?" burst out Fleur. "'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money – zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," said Moody. The silence became very tense after that, Ludo Bagman danced nervously on his feet.

"Moody old man… what a thing to say!"

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he has not uncovered six plots to murder him before lunch time," said Karkaroff loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination as well. An odd quality in a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but I'm sure you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boys name into the goblet…"

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her large hands.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" said Moody. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus charm to bamboozle the goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament… I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in the category…"

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff coldly. "And a very ingenious theory it is- though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it into pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand me if I don't take you entirely seriously."

"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted in a menacing voice. "It's my job to think as Dark wizards do, Karkaroff- as you ought to remember…"

"Alastor!" Dumbledore said warningly. Moody fell silent, regarding Karkaroff with satisfaction.

"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do…"

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr –"

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it." Madame Maxime fell silent, glaring. She wasn't the only one, both Snape and Karkaroff looked livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited.

"Well, shall we crack on then?" he said, rubbing his hands together and smiling. "Got to give our champions their instructions haven't we? Barty, want to give the honors?" Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.

"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes… the first task… The first task is to test your daring. So we are not going to tell you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… very important…

"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help from any of their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge with only their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-the-year tests."

He turned to Dumbledore.

"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," said Dumbledore. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay here at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry. It is very busy, very difficult time at the moment… I've left young Weatherby in charge… Very enthusiastic… a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…"

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?"

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here then at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," he said, with a touch of his old impatience.

"Professor Karkaroff – Madame Maxime – Amy – a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.

But Karkaroff and Krum were already walking out the door in silence. Madame Maxime said something in French to Amanda, who wavered on her feet but she shook her head.

"I'm sorry Dumbledore," she said, "another time perhaps." She and Madame Maxime led Fleur from the room, speaking rapidly in French. Severus followed soon after, retreating to the darkness of the dungeons once more.

The days passed quickly and Amanda found herself sitting at the house tables just like she had all those years ago, enjoying conversations with the children of the friends she had in school. Many of them wrote to their parents and soon Amanda was showered by letters demanding to know where she'd been, and why she hadn't written in all these years.

Amanda also developed a sympathy for Potter; no one believed that he hadn't put his name in the goblet. Add to that the fact that Cedric looked the part so much more then he did and one couldn't help but feel sorry for the messy haired Gryffindor.

During much of the day Amanda was kept busy teaching her students, classes would continue even if they weren't in their own school. They were having the most difficulty with potions, having not been able to bring all the necessary ingredients and materials with them. And so a few days after the feast Amanda found herself going to the dungeons to talk to Snape, hoping he would allow them to use his classroom when he was done.

She had just rounded the corner when something barreled into her, it was a sobbing girl. The girl had frizzy ginger hair and was covering her mouth with her teeth. Amanda knelt down.

"Come now, move your hands, let me see." The whimpering girl slowly moved her hands, showing teeth that were growing down past her chin. Amanda waved her wand, muttering under her breath, and the growing stopped.

"Hospital wing, you'll have to get Pomfrey to resize those." She looked up to see just the man she had come down to see and his class staring at her. "Is that a normal occurrence, you know, something new they've added?" she asked, gesturing in the direction the crying girl had run off in.

"Miss Grangers teeth are so large one could easily mistake her for a beaver under the best of circumstances," he said smoothly. At his words two boys, one of whom Amanda recognized to be Potter, started yelling at the Professor in rage at what he had said about their friend. It was impossible to tell exactly what they were calling him, as the words echoed in the stone hallway so much, but Snape seemed to get the idea.

"Let's see," he said, in a silky voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each fro Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a weeks worth of detentions."

The boys marched inside, followed by the rest of there class and Snape. Amanda followed more slowly, shaking her head.

Severus started his class without even acknowledging her presence, perhaps hoping that she would just go away. Having expected something of the sort, Amanda just sat down on an unused table and stared at him brightly, ignoring the students who kept glancing back at her curiously.

"Professor McGonagall, why are you in my class?" Severus asked when he could no longer pretend not to see her.

"Do I need a reason to visit my favorite potions teacher, who just so happens to have an empty potions classroom he doesn't need between his first and third hours?" she said sweetly. His face remained blank.

"No."

"So we are agreed I don't need a reason. Now about that room…"

"No."

"There's not that many of us, we'll clean it up."

Severus's class mentally cringed, while the Slytherin side grinned smugly, this foreigner obviously didn't know much about their Potions Professor. They waited for the insults to start.

"No," he repeated.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want a bunch of snot-nosed, foreign brats running around in my class, supervised only by a stupid little past-Gryffindor girl," he retorted sharply.

"Don't you feel better, having said that?" she said, still smiling. The Slytherins were shocked, why hadn't she gotten angry, or run away in tears like everyone else?

"No," he said simply. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes.

"You little – you're just trying to annoy me."

"Is it working?"

"It was," she said, and folded her arms. "Well done, you managed to annoy me. What an accomplishment," she added sarcastically. "You must feel so proud."

"Will you get out of my classroom so I can teach now?" he said, with slight exasperation.

"Do I get the room?"

"Yes," he sighed.

"Yes!"

"Get out!"

"Have a good day, Professor!" she called, having already swept out. Harry stared after her in shock, the woman had seemed so gloomy the other day, and now she was so happy she could leave Snape's class smiling, and wishing him a good day! There was something strange about the younger McGonagall.

"Antidotes!" said Snape, knocking him out of his reverie. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we shall be selecting someone on whom to test one…"

Snape's eyes met Harry's, and Harry knew what was coming, Snape was going to poison him. Harry imagined picking up his cauldron, and sprinting to the front of class, and bringing it down on his greasy head –

A knock on the door interrupted Harry's thoughts. It was Collin Creevey; he edged into the classroom, beaming at Harry, and walked up to Snape's desk at the front of the room.

"Yes?" said Snape curtly.

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."

"Potter has another hour of potions to complete," said Snape coldly. "He will come upstairs when this class is finished.

"Sir – Sir, Mr. Bagman wants him. All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs…"

"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Please, sir – He's got to take his things with him, all the champions-"

"Very well!" said Snape. "Potter – take your things and get out of my sight!" Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and left as quickly as possible.

Outside the door, Professor McGonagall, the younger, was waiting for them.

"Thank you Mr. Creevey, you may go now," she said.

"Good luck, Harry." Collin called as he raced away. Harry looked at the Professor in confusion.

"Why didn't you just –" she shrugged.

"I'd already made a deal to leave. Besides, Mr. Creevey was eavesdropping anyways. And one can only annoy Severus so much in an hour before things turn ugly."

"Uglier," Harry muttered as they started walking.

"Please do not insult the staff of this school within earshot of me; it is hazardous to your health." Harry laughed but quickly realized she wasn't joking when her cold eyes turned on him.

"How do you know Snape?"

"Professor Snape and I went to school together, and his first year of teaching was during my seventh year."

"So that means you went to school with my father," Harry said, hoping she could tell him about his father.

"Alas, your father and I did not get along and were often at odds with each other."

"But I thought Snape said you were in Gryffindor."

"Professor Snape, please. And yes, I was," she said indifferently.

"And when you sit with the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs, you recognize the parents of people over there all the time."

"Just because I was a Gryffindor doesn't mean I wasn't friends with people from other houses as well," she said.

They separated then, as they had reached the right room. It was a small classroom, with most of the desks pushed against the far wall. Behind several desks covered in velvet sat five chairs, Ludo was sitting in one and talking to a witch Harry had never seen before.

Viktor was standing in a corner, looking moody and not talking to anybody like usual. Cedric and Fleur were talking animatedly, with Fleur looking a lot happier then normal. A paunchy looking man, holding a large camera, was glancing between Fleur and Amanda rapidly before finally settling on staring at both out of the corners of his eyes.

Amanda went to sit in a corner away from everybody and began reading a book she'd brought with her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rita Skeeter walk out, pulling Harry with her. Amanda noticed the woman shove Harry into a broom cupboard and stored the information away before returning to her book.

It wasn't long before the judges appeared. They each immediately went to stand with their champions, but Dumbledore looked around, confused.

"Has anyone seen Harry? Or, for that matter, Rita Skeeter?" he asked.

"I believe you will find them both in a cupboard just across the hall," Amanda said, not looking up from her book. Dumbledore left, only to return with a very relieved looking Harry and a flustered looking Rita Skeeter a moment later.

"May I introduce Mr. Olivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his seat at the judges table. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Mr. Olivander was an old looking wizard with large, pale eyes. Amanda could remember getting her wand from him around eighteen years ago.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first please?" said Mr. Olivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room. Fleur swept over to Mr. Olivander and handed him her wand.

Mr. Olivander looked over every inch of the wand before producing a banquet of flowers from it and moving on to the next wand. He checked Cedric's, Viktor's, and finally Harry's, pronouncing them all to be in excellent condition.

Next they had to take pictures, which ended up being more challenging and time consuming then the wand weighing itself. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow no matter where she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand back far enough to get her into the frame; eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it extra curl and Krum sulked, half-hidden at the back of the group. Rita and the camera man kept getting into small disputes, Rita trying to pull Harry to the front, and the camera man trying to put Fleur, who was happy to oblige, in front. And then the whole thing had to be redone once Rita noticed Amanda sitting in the corner.

"Professor McGonagall, could you 'old my cloak for a moment?" asked Fleur. Rita looked confused.

"McGonagall? As in Minerva McGonagall? I thought she was older," said Rita, confused.

"Minerva is my mother," said Amanda quietly.

"She iz ze deputy headmistress for Beauxbatons," Madame Maxime supplied grandly.

"Oh really? The daughter of Hogwarts' strict, Deputy Headmistress leaving to become the Deputy Headmistress for a rival school. Family tension, perhaps?"

"No," Amanda replied simply.

"You simply must be in the picture!" Rita squealed.

"I am neither champion, nor judge, and therefore do not belong in that picture."

Rita overrode her objections and practically dragged Amanda over to the group. After the picture could finally be taken, Rita insisted of single shots of all the champions and judges, including Amanda. Then, at last, they were free to go.