The Bloody Ashikabi

by Arawn D. Draven

When the Dursleys go to Japan, Dudley accidentally activates a security in MBI's locals that kill them. Now, what will MBI and Karasuba do with the child they found when they checked the Dursleys' car? Rated M for mention of torture and child abuse, and future language and gore. There will be some Dumbledore, Potters, and some Weasley Alive!Potters [DISCONTINUED]

25. Chapter 25-Hogwarts

And I'm back with the last chapter of this month! By the way, don't expect to see another chapter before the end of November, as I said, the reason you got three chapters was because they were finished and that the previous two hadn't been posted due to a lack of Internet connection.

Now, before we go on with the story, I have a short rant. I have recently received a review that I did not like, at all. It says, word for word:

:wow, this is shittier than I thought it would become

Now, while I don't mind constructive criticism, which I get often and appreciate, this is NOT something constructive. And the worst was that whoever posted this message was too much of a coward to even choose a name to post it under.

Now, let's make things clear: I don't mind people not liking my story, everyone has their own tastes, and I am fully aware that there are quite a few clichés in my story. If you don't like it, fine, it's your right, I'm not forcing you to read it. And if you read it anyway and want to see me improve it, then you can either review or leave me a PM with your critic, what you don't like and why, I don't mind at all. However, if you don't like this story, and have nothing better to do than leave an anonymous review saying "this is shit", then I will ask you to find something better and more productive to do with your time.

I am fortunate enough to have very few reviews like this, thankfully, and I will never be able to thank those who take the time to support this story and me enough for it. Sorry that I had to rant a bit, but this just angered me beyond reason.

Now that the rant is off, please continue on to the story!

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I don't own Harry Potter or Sekirei

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24

Hogwarts

The Great Hall was abuzz with muffled conversations and hushed whispers as several hundred people stared at a goblet alight with blue fire, situated in front of the staff's table. The Goblet of Fire was an ancient magical artifact, one that had been used for more than a millennium to select the Champions of the Triwizard Tournament. Said Tournament was a competition held between the three most famous magical schools of Europe: Hogwarts, the British school, Beauxbatons, the French school, and Durmstrang, the Eastern Europe's school.

The students of all three schools were sitting in the Great Hall, not mixing with the ones of the other schools, as they had yet to get to know their counterparts. Beauxbaton's delegation was mainly made of stunningly beautiful females, although a few male students could be seen wearing the blue uniform, characteristic of their school, much like the black robes allowed to determine who were Hogwarts' students. Durmstrang students were easily recognizable by the heavy furred coats they all wore, a requirement as apparently their school was situated in a very cold environment. They were perhaps the most warrior-like of the three schools, whereas students of the other schools were more similar to normal students.

Many bets had been made on who would represent each school, despite the fact that none of the Hogwarts students knew their counterparts all that much, as such the choices were mostly made by personal preference, although many seemed to think that Viktor Krum, the famous Seeker, would be Durmstrang's representative, despite not knowing his abilities as a wizard. This explosion of the number of bets seemed to make the happiness of a pair of redheaded twins, who were whispering to the students next to them, trying to wriggle some last-minute bets out of the younger students.

Standing next to the Goblet of Fire stood the entirety of Hogwarts' staff, along with the Headmaster and Headmistress of the foreign schools, along with the Ministry's representatives, Mr. Ludo Bagman, a retired Quidditch player, and Mr. Crouch, a stern-looking man who seemed unable to understand the term of the word "fun". It was the evening of October, thirty-first, of the year two thousand and four, and the excitement of the student body had reached an all-time high. For those who were too young to participate, they were curious about who would represent their school, would it be someone from their House? A friend? The friend of a friend? As for those who had put their names in the Goblet, the emotions were a mix of anticipation, eagerness, hope, excitement, and some fear that if they were chosen, they would not be good enough.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the Goblet began to shine, the fire surrounding it burning brighter all of a sudden, the sign that it had done its' job, and after comparing each student's name for each of the three schools, had selected the best candidate to represent their respective countries and peers.

With a burst of flames, a slightly singed piece of parchment was sent flying in the air, drifting lazily in the hot currents created by the Goblet, until it was summoned by Dumbledore, who upon catching it, read it, and announced, a grandfatherly smile on his face:

"The Champion for Beauxbatons, Academy of Magic, is...Miss Fleur Delacour!"

Cheers and applause broke out, as a stunningly beautiful blonde stood up and walked up to the staff's table, and then, with a motion from her Headmistress, left the Hall through a door behind the table, leading to the room where the three Champions would first meet as such. Her walk was confident and graceful, and many males went starry-eyed as they eyed her, while many witches growled outright, knowing that the physical perfection she showed was due to her Veela blood.

However, any reactions were quieted when the Goblet spat another piece of parchment, Dumbledore summoning it like he did the first, before announcing:

"The Champion for Durmstrang Institute is...Mister Viktor Krum!"

This time the reactions were much more extreme, many loudly cheering for their idol, as witches licked their lips at the sight of the well-built wizard walking up to the door, his gait confident and predatory, despite the fact that his face was a stony mask, no emotion showing in his eyes, while Igor Karkaroff, the Headmaster of Durmstrang, cheered loudly.

"I knew you had it in you, Viktor!"

As the Durmstrang's Champion went to meet his Beauxbatons' counterpart, the Goblet spat the eagerly awaited third piece of parchment, the one designing Hogwarts' Champion. Many in the room held their breaths and crossed their fingers, hoping that they would be selected. After all, many reasoned, the Tournament was held at Hogwarts, as such they had the field advantage, and if they won, they would go down in history, as well as be a thousand Galleons richer. While such a sum was pocket money to most Pureblood families, it was still a large amount of money, and several of the Muggleborns who had put their name in the Goblet hoped to win, as they could use said money for their career plans.

There was also the added fame of simply being a Champion. Since the person who would end up being chosen was the one who would represent the school, it was more or less expected that being selected was an unspoken acknowledgement of power and skill, as well as personal charisma. It would draw the spotlights, and even if they did not win the Tournament, it would be a very powerful boost to any career they would choose after Hogwarts.

Finally, Dumbledore summoned the piece of parchment, reading it and smiling, before he announced:

"And the third and final Champion, the Champion for Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is..."

Many students leaned towards the staff table, awaiting eagerly the name that would leave the old man' lips at any moment now...

"Angelina Johnson!"

The Gryffindor table erupted in loud cheers and whistles, as a chocolate-skinned beauty shakily stood up. Angelina was a very appreciated witch in Hogwarts, what with her friendly and open personality, along with her seriousness, a quality that the Ravenclaws could respect, or her willingness to help her peers, something that the Hufflepuffs appreciated about her. She was also known for being a very diligent witch, working hard towards her goals, and many thought that such an attitude was exactly what was needed to make a good Champion.

Once she had gone through the door, Dumbledore turned back to the Great Hall, a wide smile on his face.

"And now, with our Champions selected, this concludes the Choosing of the..." started Dumbledore, only to be silenced and nearly blinded when the Goblet lit for a fourth time, the flames reaching heights far greater than they had the three first times. The light was so blinding it was almost as if a miniature sun had suddenly appeared in the middle of the Great Hall, making many shield their eyes, lest they go blind. For a split second, the light grew so much that there was not even a single shadow in the entire Hall, and then, with a loud detonation, the Goblet spat a fourth piece of parchment, as singed as the first three.

This time however, Dumbledore did not summon it immediately, as he stared numbly at the piece of parchment, unable to comprehend what had just happened, his mind already calculating, creating theories on what had happened, discarding the least likely, until after a few seconds, he seemed to overcome his shock, and summoning the paper, read what was written on it, his eyes widening to gigantic proportions as he swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Albus? What is it?" asked McGonnagal, looking rather worried by her former teacher's behavior. "What is written? Whose name is it?"

Nervously glancing at the Potters, Dumbledore spoke, his voice disbelieving.

"Harry...Potter."

-Break-

Far from Britain and Hogwarts, in a secluded area of Japan, stood a very imposing, old-Japanese styled mansion. Hidden in a valley surrounded by mountains covered in forests, it was far from any form of civilization, yet it suited the inhabitants of the house just fine, as none liked the buzzing and constant noise that came with human presence. A few of them even disliked, or hated, humans themselves, and as such, were more than happy that they didn't have to see any so long as they were in the house.

Surrounded by high walls, the mansion was quite large for the small number of people who lived inside it, however it suited them just fine. On one side were the living quarters, with the rooms, living rooms, bathrooms, etc... However behind said living quarters were large training grounds, which were used by the inhabitants almost daily, save for when they were called on a mission that took them more than a day to accomplish, a rarity considering their skills. The use of said grounds was quite obvious at the moment, as large craters and deep gashes marred the ground, while scorch marks were obvious here and there.

At the center of the grounds, twin blurs moved at incredible speeds, sparks flying each time they met. Eventually, both blurs separated and moved away, each settling on one side of the grounds. Now that they weren't moving anymore, one of the blur appeared to be a shirtless Harry, clad only in black jeans and barefoot, his hand clenching a nodachi made of dark steel. His hair was undone and fell on his back in smooth silver waves, his mismatched eyes staring at his opponent with little emotion.

The other blur revealed itself to be one Miyuki Shiba, holding a standard katana in a death grip as she panted, trying to get some much needed oxygen. She had changed much in the years since Harry had become her tutor. As used as she was to have her tutors explain everything to her gently, the grey-haired wizard believed in a much more practical approach, and was brutal when it came to teaching her. At first she had fought him every step of the way, but she had eventually understood that if she wanted him to respect her, then she would have to impress him enough that he had no other choice. This had led her to work harder than ever before, working herself to the bone, and for the first time in her life, she discovered the satisfaction of seeing the results of her hard work. The training regimen she had followed since had made her fitter and more in control of her body than most witches, and had also had the benefit of increasing her reserves of magic.

The now eighteen witch stood at a surprising height of five feet eleven, quite a bit taller than what most would expect from a Japanese woman. Her body was now much more toned, although it was not obvious at first glance, while her face, due to her growth and training regimen, was now devoid of the baby fat it had retained at fifteen, showing a beautiful young woman. She was wearing a sports' bra and yoga pants, as she had long since learnt that Harry had no qualm targeting her clothes if it meant catching her off-guard. At first she had been extremely angry, believing him to be some kind of pervert, but when she had yelled at him, clutching a hastily conjured shirt to her chest, he had simply quirked an eyebrow and asked: do you think people wouldn't try such a trick in real life? She had shut her mouth so quick she had almost bit her tongue, because she couldn't refute his argument.

During her time under his tutelage, she had learnt that everything that could be used against an opponent should be used in a real fight. A fight was not about honor, or skill, it was about staying alive, no matter what you had to do. Using dirty tricks was almost a requirement, as those who did not use them inevitably fell for them. It was also beaten into her skull that she should not feel pity for those she had to kill, even if she had yet to take a life herself. No matter their reasons, personal history or beliefs, everything boiled down to a simple fact: if people wish to harm/kill you, you must do whatever it takes to protect yourself, even kill.

It was thanks to Harry that she had survived a particularly nasty assassination attempt on her seventeenth birthday. All the guests had been frozen while the guards had been too far to react when a man had taken out a gun and pointed it at her, but by then she had already been moving. The would-be assassin had seen his wrist broken to the point his bones had pierced his skin, while his gun had been plucked from his fingers less than a second after he had aimed it at her. By the time he had been restrained by the guards, he had at least two broken ribs, and had trouble breathing after a hit to his Adam's apple. The responsible for the attempt on her life had not liked the result, as once the assassin had been thoroughly interrogated, the man had been forced to commit seppuku lest his family be ruined by the Shibas.

She narrowly avoided a downward strike, only to feel the air pushed out of her lungs when Harry's foot connected with her ribs, and winced as she heard a cracking sound. She landed in a crouch, and despite the pain she was in due to her broken rib, she managed to avoid another slash, before she felt a cold blade touching on her cheek. She immediately dropped her blade, knowing that the spar had ended.

"Your win, sensei." she said, as she let herself slump on the ground, already focusing on using her magic to heal her rib, one of the many tricks she had learnt from her sensei. Usually the rib would have been vanished and re-grown, but using magic to repair it instead made it sturdier, not that normal magic users usually cared about such things. However, she had learnt to take any advantage she could get, especially against her sadistic sensei.

"Good job, Miyuki." congratulated Harry, as he left his own blade on the ground and sat down. "You've made a lot of progress, considering that when you started, you couldn't even hold ten seconds in a spar."

And it was true. Harry, while restraining his strength to above-human levels but beneath Sekirei-level, made the most use of it, to the point where it had taken almost a month for Miyuki to learn that unless she seriously tried to kill him, she wouldn't be able to touch him in their spars.

Miyuki let out a bitter chuckle. While she knew that she was most assuredly quite far from what she once was, she was also very aware that she was still an ant compared to Harry and Karasuba. She had long since understood that the two of them were clearly not human, or at least fully human. Their strength, speed, and instincts were far, far too developed for that. She had spared with some master swordsmen her family knew, and while she had not won, as her technique was still too rough, she had been astonished by how slow they had seemed. After spending countless spars avoiding slashes that would have seriously hurt had they connected with her body, she had become very good at avoiding being hit, but also at adapting to her opponents' speed. And the only way she could adapt to her sensei's insane speed was to react before he even hit.

Still, she had not said anything to anyone, as she had come to deeply respect the younger boy, no, man, who trained her. While she complained quite often about how hellish his training was, she could not deny that it had borne excellent results, and he had opened her eyes on how disgusting a person she had been. It had been shoved into her face, shown clear as day, how haughty and conceited she had become due to her upbringing. She could only grimace as she remembered how arrogant and self-righteous she had been, and it was something of a relief that she no longer was the same person than her fifteen years old self.

Feeling her rib finish healing, she slowly rose to a seated position, knowing from experience that she would still be sore for a few hours. There were potions against that, of course, but her sensei had heavily insisted that she did not take them. Pain helped shape the character, he said, and she had surprisingly found herself agreeing with him after a while. There was nothing better than the ache of soreness in her body, the reminder that she had worked hard once again. It was, in a way, a badge of honor, a token to her dedication to her training.

Standing up, she stretched, feeling a few of her bones pop.

"Sensei, I'll be cleaning up."

"Sure, go ahead." shrugged Harry. It certainly wouldn't be the first time she used the bathroom, and certainly would not be the last.

As his student gingerly walked back towards the mansion, he stretched and jumped back on his feet, his carefree smile leaving place to a thoughtful frown. The bad feeling he had had for a while had come to a head a few hours ago, and he had half-expected something to happen when Miyuki had arrived for her weekly training session. However, since nothing had happened, he was growing increasingly more paranoid, his fingers twitching each time he caught sight of a movement. Fortunately, he had been distracted by his training session with Miyuki, which had allowed him to blow off some steam.

Knowing that the heiress would take some time in the bathroom (she usually enjoyed the warm water soothing her sore muscles since he forbid her from using potions to that effect), he decided he might as well try some spells with his wand, since it had been a while he had used it. It was always good to practice everything you could, and since Harry didn't want it known that he could use magic without a wand, it was a necessity. He could go wild and use wandless magic while he was on missions, since he had his mask and several glamours applied to change his face should the mask fall, but nobody knew that Harry Minaka could use magic without a wand.

He had barely taken the wooden stick out when a loud, panicked shriek echoed through the entire mansion.

"HARRY!"

Recognizing Homura's voice, he wasted no time, pocketing his wand as he leapt towards the area the scream had come from. From what little he had glimpsed from their link before it was flooded with panic, and surprisingly, anger, she was taking her breakfast in the living room. Using his powers to lessen the pull of gravity on him, it took only a few seconds for him to cover the distance, just in time to see Akitsu land next to him. It was surprising for her to be so fast, as she had been observing his spar with Miyuki from afar, but he wasn't going to ask any questions.

He had just set foot inside the living room when a newspaper was shoved in his face, and he took it from Homura's trembling hands, looking at her. The young woman was shaking, her face red with anger, and small flames were flickering in her hair, a sign that she was so extremely shaken that her control was slipping slightly.

"What's wrong, Homura?" he asked, not liking what he was seeing. While the fire-user was not as self-confident than Karasuba, or stoic as Akitsu, it was very rare for her to lose control to the point that she let it affect her powers. So whatever had put her in that state was definitively not something minor.

Taking the newspaper, she wordlessly pointed at the headlines, and as he read, his eyes widened, before narrowing into slits as he hissed angrily, snatching the paper from Homura's hands as he scanned it, before snarling and walking out and heading back to the training grounds. Given his state, he had no doubts that Karasuba would find him soon, and he hoped she did, he had a lot of anger to work out.

Akitsu, for her part, took the newspaper from where it had fallen, looking for what had caused her Ashikabi to suddenly snap.

Boy-Who-Lived selected as Triwizard Champion!

Dear readers, you are all aware that this year will see the newly resurrected Triwizard Tournament held at Hogwarts. It was with obvious trepidation that this reporter was waiting for the names of the Champions to be called, as only the best of each school will ever be selected. However, after selecting the three Champions, the Goblet surprisingly selected a Fourth Champion, a historical first!

But more than the fact that there is now a fourth Champion competing for the title of Winner of the Triwizard Tournament, it is the name of said Champion that surprised everyone. Indeed, the fourth Triwizard Champion is none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and Vanquisher of You-Know-Who when he was but a baby.

You will all remember that our Hero has been missing for several years now, ever since Dumbledore's decision to leave him with the Muggle family of Lady Potter, Lily Potter nee Evans. As it stands now, Harry Potter must compete in the Tournament or forfeit his magic, which, as you all know, would make him a Squib. But this reporter learnt more distressing news: after asking a prominent Healer of Saint Mungos, whose name shall not be mentioned, she learnt that instead of turning the Boy-Who-Lived into a Squib, losing his magic could very well kill him.

"Losing your magic is not the same as being born without magic, and even so, there are different ways of losing your magic, some more known than others. For example, breaking an oath will not "take" your magic from you, instead your magic will never again work for you, making you effectively a Squib. Now, from what a friend, Unspeakable at the Ministry told me, the Goblet quite literally rips the magic out of the body of the Champion who fails to compete in a Task.

Having your magic brutally taken from you is enough of a shock to kill the average wizard, let alone someone as obviously powerful as the one who vanquished You-Know-Who when he was only one year old."

There you have it, dear readers! Now, Harry Potter must be found before the First Task, on November twenty four, or it is likely he will die. This reporter will keep you informed of the progress made by the Ministry in this regard to the best of her ability.

For more information on the Triwizard Tournament, see page 5.

For more information on the Boy-Who-Lived, see page 8.

By the time she had finished reading the article, the temperature had dropped from slightly warm for the time of the year to downright arctic. Frost was already spreading around the Ice Sekirei, until all of a sudden, the drop stopped, and Akitsu walked out, leaping in the direction of the training grounds, from where the sounds of large-scale destruction could be heard.

As her sister left, Homura grabbed the newspaper and growled. She didn't know who had had the bright idea of entering her Ashikabi in a tournament he would be forced to compete lest he die, but once she found them, they would burn.

-Break-

Karasuba moaned as she held herself up by gripping Takami's desk, the woman shooting her a half-questioning half-freaked out glance. Considering that the Black Sekirei was shivering, panting and was more than a little flushed, the scientist's reaction was more or less expected. The fact that said scientist was also aware that the Sekirei was a genocidal psychopath turned on by massive destruction and bloodshed made it all the creepier to suddenly see her act as if she was having sex in the middle of her office.

"Karasuba?" tentatively asked the grey-haired woman, looking torn between asking her what was wrong or keeping her mouth shut to avoid hearing something that would probably give her nightmares for weeks.

A moan so erotic that it made the geneticist uncomfortable escaped the Sekirei's lips as she rubbed her thighs together, looking moments away from having the most glorious orgasm of her entire life. And as it was to be expected, moments later the grey-haired killer stilled completely, her eyes opening wide as a very loud moan escaped her lips, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Whew," grinned the psychopath, after taking a few steadying breaths, "That was excellent."

"Karasuba," groaned the human scientist, "what in Kami's name just happened?!"

"Well, I know you haven't gotten any in a long while, Takami, but I didn't think you'd be so sexually frustrated that you would even forget how it feels to cum. Maybe you should have a little talk with Minaka. Or you could just hire a gigolo." suggested Karasuba, making the scientist growl and pound her fist on her desk.

"I'm serious, idiot!"

"Oh, fine." pouted the Sekirei, "Harry's just learnt he has to participate in a magical tournament back in England, because if he doesn't, he'll die. So he was planning on killing the idiots responsible, and he was very imaginative. He just got careless and flooded our bond with a good dose of hatred and bloodlust."

"Wait wait wait! What do you mean by, "he'll die"?" asked Takami, who had gone pale.

"Hm? Oh, there's a lot of magical mumbo jumbo, but basically being chosen by the artifact that selects the champions means that they enter a contract with it. If they don't compete, the thing rips their Tama out of their body. You know what that means, right?"

The scientist fell back in her chair, livid. She was, bar Minaka and Miya, the one who knew the most about Sekirei in the world, and one thing that she knew was that a Sekirei's Tama was the closest thing to a soul they had. Ripping out the Tama of a Sekirei was almost equivalent to sucking out their soul, and would leave the alien in a vegetative state. And the wizards allowed such a thing to happen?!

"And how old are the other champions?" asked Takami, almost afraid of the answer.

"No clue, but it's supposed to be some kind of inter-school tournament, so I guess they're still brats." shrugged the Sekirei, clearly not caring.

The grey-haired human woman slumped in her chair. However it only lasted for a moment, until she started to get angry at the responsible for Harry's involvement in a tournament that would have cost him his life had he not learnt he was supposed to participate.

"I guess your Ashikabi is planning back to England then?" she asked, her eyes cold and hard, making Karasuba grin.

-Break-

That evening saw Harry's mansion holding a meeting between said wizard, his Sekirei, Miyuki, Takami, and Haruka. All those present were either looking quite angry, or, in some cases, radiated cold fury. The notable exception was Karasuba, who was positively glowing, and if the disgusted glances Homura was throwing her way were any indication, it was probably because the moment she had set foot inside the mansion, she had locked Harry and herself inside her bedroom, and had only emerged three hours later, her clothes in complete disarray and reeking of sex. For someone like the Fire Sekirei, who prided herself on her moral compass, to know that one of her "sister Sekirei" had been massively turned on despite the fact that their Ashikabi might die, was completely unacceptable.

"So, what is the Ministry's stance on this matter, Hasegawa-san?" asked Miyuki, who was frowning, her upbringing making it unacceptable to show any more emotion in public. Upon being made aware of the circumstances, the Shiba Heiress had been quite angry, but also disgusted. While she was aware that European Wizards were rather backwards, she hadn't thought that they would stoop so low as to create a binding Magical Contract for a Tournament and fail to properly secure the artifact responsible for the selection of the Champions.

In Japan, the only times binding contracts were used were in case of betrothals between two members of old families, and even then, they were scrutinized quite thoroughly by the family of the two betrothed, as well as someone from the Ministry, to ensure that the contract left enough leeway to the two parts of the contract.

"To be honest, they are rather divided. Harry is legally a Japanese citizen, since he was adopted by Karasuba-san, who is Japanese herself. However, the fact that he is the Lord of several old British families means he is British as well, and as such, is not under the Ministry's jurisdiction. In fact, he should not even be considered Japanese, as our Ministry will only grant citizenship to those who renounce their original citizenship.

Nonetheless, the fact is that he has lived on Japanese soil for at least five years, which means that should he wish for it, he would be able to apply for citizenship. And considering his relationship with your family, Shiba-sama, it is likely that his request would be granted in record time.

As it is, however, the situation is complicated enough that you can only expect the support of the Ministry should something extreme happen."

"Extreme?!" exploded Takami, causing the Ministry employee to "eep" and gulp nervously as the scientist glared at the young woman. "He has to participate in a Tournament he didn't even know of unless he wants to die, and from what little I've been told, this Tournament was stopped because the death toll was too high! How is being forced into something like that not extreme?!"

"Sahashi-san," placated Miyuki, as she somehow managed to retain the image of composed behavior despite the extreme tension in the air, "The Ministry is perfectly aware that Harry-sensei is perfectly able to deal with whatever Tasks the Tournament is made of. You have to realize that many highly placed people will love the idea of having sensei compete and demolish the opposition, since the Europeans have always looked down on us as second-class magic users.

To have their own "Boy-Who-Lived" win the Tournament and claim Japanese citizenship is something that would greatly appeal to many. Of course, should anything happen to him, the Ministry would most likely step in, and accuse the British of trying to steal one of our citizens, but until then, they will most likely push for sensei to compete."

The scientist slumped back into her chair, groaning. She had spent enough time in high-circles to know that the world of politics was a very dangerous one, and that the wrong move could spell your doom as surely as shooting yourself. If the politicians of the Ministry of Magic were the same she was used to deal with on a regular basis, then Harry would have little say in whether or not he participated, not that he had much in the first place apparently.

Despite his strength and his Sekirei, Harry could not allow himself to antagonize the Japanese Ministry of Magic, even if he had the support of the Shiba family. If he made the wrong move, he could very well find himself forced to leave the country unless he wished the Ministry to wage war against him. While she had little doubt that in terms of brute strength Harry far outstripped whatever the wizards could send his way, she was also quite sure that the Ministry had the means to make his stay in Japan so bad that he would have no choice but to leave of his own volition.

"I hate politics," she groaned, "It's always about ulterior motives and backstabbing moves."

Haruka gulped nervously, but nodded. She nervously glanced at Akitsu, who was surrounded by a small circle of frost, and Homura, the temperature around the grey-haired woman being hot enough to distort the very air.

"So Harry has no choice but to participate then? The Ministry won't do anything for him?" asked Takami, whose eyes were narrowed at Haruka, who nodded, looking distinctly uneasy at the stance of her employers.

"Not unless there is a risk of him dying in one of the tasks, but considering his record as a HitWizard, it is unlikely that they will consider he is in danger at any moment."

The scientist just growled, her anger fanned by the apparent nonchalance of a branch of the government when it came to the safety of one of their citizens. Of course, her rational mind knew that Harry would likely destroy his opposition, and that whatever Tasks were set for him wouldn't be as dangerous as some of the missions he took as a HitWizard, but as a mother, albeit a not a very good one, she did not approve of endangering someone who wasn't even an adult yet.

"Harry?" she finally asked, "What are you going to do then?"

So far, the primarily concerned teen hadn't spoken a word since they had sat down around the table, looking to be the picture of calm and relaxed, but all the women present knew him well enough to know that his Occlumency allowed him to hide his emotions, and all his Sekirei could feel the burning anger and hatred bubbling inside him as if it was their own. His anger didn't really come from having to participate in the Tournament, as he was confident enough in his own abilities to know that there was a very real chance that he would win, but rather from being forced into the spotlight and having to return to a country he loathed.

He had never really gotten over the fact that his own parents had abandoned him on the word of an old man, not matter how famous and respected. The fact that they had never bothered to check on him had also convinced him that James and Lily Potter were not good parents, as what he considered to be good parental behavior was to keep an eye on your children, especially when you knew that they were around people who didn't like them. He was also frankly disgusted with the government, as they hadn't sent people to check on him either, but also because his proxies relayed most of the Wizenmagot meetings back to him. If he had had any doubts that the British Wizards were backwards, then a single meeting was enough to make him realize just how badly the country was run. All the power was in the hands of a handful of families, who pushed back any law that might threaten their supremacy, and looked down on the more recent families of magic users, all because their blood was supposed to be less pure than their own.

And now, he was forced to return there, to make himself publicly known, despite his reluctance to do so. He did not want to be hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived, or whatever title they had cooked up for him, as he wanted to be famous for his own achievements, not for something he had no control over and was likely to be a fluke.

He also had no doubts that once he was there, his "family" would try to reconnect with him, when he was perfectly happy with never talking to them again, lest he kill them painfully for their abandonment. And he had an inkling that they would not be the only ones trying to get close to him, since Dumbledore was apparently convinced that the Prophecy was real, and not some half-baked hoax that a drunken fraud had cooked up to get a job. He knew that if he met the man, that he was likely to lose control and lash out violently at him, as Tom's dislike of the old man had bled over to him when he had gotten the Dark Lord's memories, mixing with his own anger and disgust.

But it wasn't as if he had a choice, was it?

"I'll participate. Tomorrow morning I'll borrow one of MBI's private jets for England, so we should be there in the evening."

"Why don't you ask Gringotts for a Portkey?" nervously asked Haruka, half-expecting him to blow up at her. "It would be much faster."

"Because I do not want to be arrested for the murder of every single person in their British branch when I arrive there." he growled, his face losing its' calm and showing a hateful snarl. "And also because I have a few things I want to do before going to Hogwarts."

Haruka nodded fearfully, inwardly wincing for the fate that would undoubtedly befall those who would cross the young wizard when he was in this mood.

-Break-

The mood in the surprisingly comfortable private jet the group was in was somber, as Harry had barely uttered a few words since they had left Japan, all of them in a rather brusque and angry tone, showing the women present that for all his apparent calm, the wizard was still extremely angry, as otherwise he would never have spoken harshly to any of his Sekirei. They were his family, he had stressed this enough time for them to know that unless they did something monumentally stupid, that he would never treat them like he had been treated at the Dursleys.

At the moment, his Sekirei were showing different kinds of reactions to what was happening, not very surprising if one were to consider how fundamentally different each of the beautiful young women were.

Akitsu was now almost permanently at his sides, clutching his arm, his hand, or whatever part of his clothing she could get her hands on like a lifeline, as if to ensure that her Ashikabi knew she was there for him in his time of need, just like he had been there when she had needed him. It was as if she was trying to keep him in sight lest he disappear and leave her. The Ice Sekirei was also quite obviously ready to deal with whatever welcoming the wizards would give them, as she had the same view on the British magic users as her Ashikabi, especially when it came to the Potters and Dumbledore.

Homura was lost in thought, the Fire Sekirei's powers unconsciously heating the air around her. She was the most torn of the three Sekirei, as unlike Akitsu or Karasuba, she tried to see things from the viewpoint of the British, and she understood that despite how corrupt their society was as a whole, that there were probably good people who cared about Harry's wellbeing there. However, there was also a large part of her that felt indignation of the highest order knowing that her Ashikabi had been forced into something he wanted no part in, and something known for having a very high death toll.

Karasuba was perhaps the most composed of the three Sekirei at the moment, if her bloodthirsty smile and the way she was almost lovingly sharpening the blade of her nodachi was any indication. Unlike her peers, she had a much more simplistic view of the situation: Harry was going back to a place he hated, with people he loathed, which meant that she would be able to kill lots of humans. Of course, a small, instinctive part of her felt angry that her Ashikabi was forced to do anything, but she knew that it would only make it more likely that there would be the opportunity to slice off a few limbs and eviscerate a few cockroaches, so why should she care?

However, Harry and his Sekirei weren't the only people on the plane. While Miyuki couldn't come because her actions in Britain might affect the dealings the Shiba clan had with the island nation, however small they were, Takami had insisted to come, claiming that since Minaka was too crazy to care about his own adoptive son, that the responsibility fell on her shoulders as his guardian in the non-magical world. The scientist was certainly not happy with the situation, and seemed intent on giving a very harsh wake-up call to the people responsible for Harry's selection as a Champion, as well a lecture on a parent's duty to the Potters. She may have been a rather bad mother, what with her barely seeing her own children, but it was mostly for their own sake, since anyone too involved with her might be targeted for the simple reason that they might hold information on the Sekirei.

Now her presence had not been something Harry had planned or wanted, as he had argued with her that she would be in constant danger while she was in England, but the scientist was stubborn, and had eventually managed to convince him to let her come, although the wizard had wanted to take every precaution possible and as such given her several artifacts he had had to purchase from the Goblins. She now wore twin earrings that would protect her mind, creating strong Occlumency barriers to prevent anyone from reading her mind since he had little doubt that Dumbledore would have no qualms doing so. She had also a simple silver necklace resting on her collarbone, one heavily enchanted to detect every and all potions in the drinks she would have, and to either neutralize whatever was in them or at least freeze her body to allow for an antidote to be prepared in time. Finally, he had given her two rings that would create magical shields strong enough to resist even Fiendfyre in the odd case that she was attacked when either he or his Sekirei weren't there to protect her.

Finally, Harry himself was meditating, trying to use his Occlumency to calm himself down, a hard task when his anger and hatred were almost consuming him. Still, he needed to have a calm mind when he arrived, as he could not afford to attack Dumbledore or his biological parents on sight. He held no illusions that there were a lot of people who wanted to use him for their own agendas in the backwards British magical society, and he had no intention of giving these people ammunition.

Breathing in and out slowly, he felt his raging emotions begin to calm down. By the time of their arrival, he knew he would have turned the white-hot anger he was currently feeling to cold fury, that he would turn all the energy he was wasting in feeling angry into energy to fuel his plans to deal with whoever had gotten him in this mess.

They will all pay...he thought, his fingers twitching ever so slightly. They will learn what it means to mess with me...

-Break-

Dumbledore sank into his armchair with a contented sigh, happy to have finally some time to breathe after the hectic day he had to suffer. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes, trying to ease the growing headache he was feeling. Dealing with several people who thought that their questions were the most important, and as such tried to speak louder than the others in the hope to be heard, was something he really didn't like, even if he was used to it.

Putting his glasses back on, he glared at the singed piece of parchment under a glass dome set on his desk. The first thing he had done was to check it for Harry's magical signature, and surprisingly, he had discovered that the parchment actually came from St Mungos, more precisely from Harry's birth certificate. Unfortunately, it meant that Harry was bound by the Contract created by the Goblet, he had researched the artifact enough to know that. The Goblet didn't select a mere name, in fact anyone could write anything on a random piece of paper and throw it into the fire, however what the Goblet did use to select a Champion was the magical signature on the parchment. And since it was required by the Ministry that each newborn's magical signature be recorded, St Mungos had each baby touch their birth certificate to leave their signature on it. He had hoped that the person who had put Harry's name in the Goblet hadn't known that piece of information, and had been trapped themselves, however, since it was Harry's magical signature on the paper, it was indeed the Boy-Who-Lived who had to compete in the Tournament.

He had already been hounded by Lily and James Potter to find their son before the day of the First Task, as if Harry didn't show up on that day, then his magic would be ripped out of him, killing him on the spot, much like the Prophet had said in their surprisingly accurate article. He hadn't known that tidbit of information, but his contact in the Unspeakables had confirmed it for him. It certainly explained why they had been extremely reluctant to allow the Goblet to be used again, and had only caved because Fudge had threatened to have their budget cut. However, despite his best efforts, he simply couldn't find Harry Potter. It was as if the boy had vanished! Even the Goblins of Gringotts had said that they didn't have any means of contacting him, and while he could have insisted, he was not foolish enough to forget that pushing them was a bad idea.

In a last act of desperation, he had even asked Fawkes to try and find Harry, but even the phoenix had been unable to locate him, let alone warn him of his newfound situation and what it entailed. He had hoped that it would have been enough, but wherever Harry Potter was, even the mightiest Light creature couldn't sense or find him. He was not eager to announce the news to the Potters, knowing that Lily would be very displeased, and who could blame her? It was his fault that Harry had disappeared, he had been too confident in his protections and in the tracking devices tied to the Boy-Who-Lived. Whoever had found him, it was clear that they were very knowledgeable about magic if they could get rid of everything he had woven around the boy.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind from his current and depressing thoughts. He was Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin First Class, Defeater of Grindewald, he could not give up now!

With a few steadying breathes, he went to browse his personal library for new ideas. It was his duty to return Harry Potter to his family and to where he belonged.

-Break-

Ivy stared at the ceiling of her room, deep in thought. Things had taken a surprising turn, one that she wasn't sure she liked. To have her brother's name come out of the Goblet suggested that someone had put it there, and given the reputation of the Tournament and what she had been able to find with Hermione, that person most likely didn't have the best intentions towards her brother. Putting the name of someone nobody had seen in more than a decade to be selected in a competition where the death toll was high enough to cause those who organized it to cancel it was a move that showed that the people behind what had happened cared little for the wellbeing of her brother, and could possibly want him dead.

Still, a part of her wondered what would happen now. Even if the Tournament was mostly an European event, after what happened, it was likely that the entire world would know that the Boy-Who-Lived had been selected to participate in the competition, and maybe, just maybe, her brother would come to England. She knew it was a vain hope, but it was all she had left now, as until she was of age she wouldn't be able to leave and travel the world to look for him.

She had seen firsthand how what happened had affected her parents, as her mother had stormed out of the Headmaster's office after insulting Dumbledore copiously, accusing him of being an "incompetent old fool" and to be unable to properly do his job. Considering the things that happened at Hogwarts, she was tempted to agree. In two thousand and one, Quirrel had infiltrated the castle, and could possibly have killed countless students if such had been his wish. In a way it had been a stroke of luck that only Hermione was harmed, and that she had been able to return afterwards despite the inability of Madam Pomfrey to heal her legs. In two thousand and two, there had apparently been attacks on students, although they had eventually ceased, Dumbledore assuring everyone he had taken care of the culprit. However she had seen no proof of that fact, therefore she was tempted to doubt his words and pass them as nothing more than a lie used to keep his last position of power. And then there was this, her brother's name coming out of the Goblet of Fire. She had been appalled by the protections around it, as Hermione had been. An Age Line was, at best, useless if any of the students had used their brains to see the basic ways around it. Fortunately for Dumbledore, it seemed that none had noticed, or that at least none of those who weren't seventh years and had put their names in the Goblet, had been selected.

"No student below seventeen will be able to put their name in the Goblet", my arse!" sneered the teen, "Anyone with a brain could have used a simple Wingardium Leviosa to put their name in, old codger!

She was growing more and more appalled with the quality of Hogwarts' education each day. After comparing what she had learnt in some classes to what she should have learnt, it had become painfully clear to her that several classes were far from what they should be, at least two of them being core classes, Potions and History of Magic. Potions was, to put it kindly, a joke, as while Snape didn't show his Slytherins the same harsh treatment than the other Houses, his teaching could hardly be called such. It did not teach the beginners the basic rules about potion-making, nor did allow for any kind of creative thinking, as merely copying a recipe could be done without bothering to attend the class. Her mother had mentioned several times that she had asked why Snape continued to teach when it was clear that he did not enjoy doing so, but from what Ivy had heard, the man had been rather elusive and told her mother that he didn't really have a choice, whatever it meant.

The other class she was dissatisfied with, History of Magic, wasn't even considered a class, more a napping time or a free period since Binns didn't even bother to check who attended his classes. The ghost was incredibly boring, and droned on Goblin Rebellions so much that if she hadn't checked her history books, she would have thought that they had been the only noteworthy event of the last five hundred years.

With such examples, it was no mystery that Ivy was beginning to wonder if she wasn't better off transferring to another school, although she held no illusions that her parents, mainly her father, wouldn't allow her to do so. Despite the fact that James Potter showed little interest for her ever since she had ended in Slytherin, if there was one thing that would make him react, it was his daughter asking to transfer to Beauxbatons. He was a Pureblood, and as such valued tradition more than it was healthy, even if he was willing to go against said traditions when it arranged him, such as when he married her mother. However she was almost certain that if she asked to change schools, she would only get a lecture about the Potters always going to Hogwarts, and that he wasn't going to allow her to change tradition because she was in the House of the Snakes.

Shaking her head, she tried to sleep, knowing that she would need to be rested if she wanted to be able to concentrate on her classes the next day.

-Break-

The next day saw the three schools meet once again in the Great Hall, the Beauxbatons students sitting with the Ravenclaws, and the Durmstrang Students with the Slytherin as they eagerly discussed Harry Potter's implication in the Tournament. The elusive Boy-Who-Lived, whom none had seen in over a decade, was a complete mystery to all, and many wondered how his name could have ended in the Goblet. Was it something that the Savior had known of and approved, something he planned to use to make his grand reappearance and show the world how great British wizards were? Or was it something done by a third party that had nothing to do with him, one who wished to force him into the spotlight, despite the fact that nobody had seen him or even knew how to contact him?

As the subject was discussed, many thought back at the Minister's intrusion during the previous' day's breakfast, followed by Amelia Bones herself, as well as two hooded people, recognized as Unspeakables. Nobody knew exactly what was said in the Headmaster's office, but what everyone knew was that it pertained to Harry Potter, and most likely to the way to find him before the day of the First Task, since otherwise he would die, killed for something he may not even know about. While Fudge had left quite quickly afterwards, escorted by a few Aurors, Amelia Bones, the remainder of the Aurors and the Unspeakables had stayed.

The Aurors had interrogated most students, although only a select few had been allowed to do so with the foreign students to avoid incidents, while the Unspeakables had examined the Goblet to determine how it had been influenced to choose a fourth Champion, although at first they had seemed quite angry about something, not that the few students around had been able to determine what.

So far, the search for the person who had placed Harry Potter's name in the Goblet had been inconclusive, as the only clue the Aurors had was that apparently nobody had been able to sneak past Moody, who had been guarding the artifact during the nights. This only left the possibility that one of the students had been the one to place the name there, although it didn't help much, since anybody could have changed the piece of parchment held with a simple Switching Charm.

The foreign students had mixed reactions to what had happened. There were those who had taken the fact that the fourth Champion was a well-known British figure as proof that the Tournament was rigged in favor of Hogwarts, an opinion openly expressed by Igor Karkaroff, Durmstrang's Headmaster, and there were those who were unsure of what to think. The reactions of the British Ministry proved that either the Minister was an extremely competent actor, which was rather unlikely, or that he at least was not in the now, nor were most of Britain's officials they had seen at Hogwarts.

For the moment, the French and Eastern European students seemed rather content to see how things would go, as the First Task was only three weeks away, and they would much rather focus on helping their own Champions than fussing over what had happened. After all, if the British wanted to bend the rules in their favor, why shouldn't they do the same? The rules stated that the teachers couldn't help the Champions, there was nothing said about other students helping them.

Although for the French Champion, there was much reluctance involved, as the female students loathed the part-Veela for the most part, seeing as the boys they were interested in never noticed them when she was around, and their boyfriends started drooling over her as soon as she was in sight. As for the males, it was rather hard for them to actually help Fleur when most saw it as a way to impress the witch, and spent more time trying to impress her than trying to find more about the Tasks.

However, as bad as things were with the male students from her school, they were far worse with Hogwarts' male students. While most of her Beauxbatons comrades had developed a slight resistance to her Allure that allowed them to retain some limited intelligence even when hit with it, it seemed that the British wizards were unused to it and as such lost all brain capabilities whenever she was around. It was rather irritating for her to walk into the Great Hall and to have all the males within a thirty-foot radius start drooling in their food, and it wasn't rare for her to see at least a few who dropped their cutlery, reduced to stuttering and blushing messes. It actually worried Fleur, although she made sure to not show it. She was aware that Britain's laws concerning people with Veela blood were archaic at best, and severely biased towards Purebloods, meaning that it was very possible that there would be an incident during her stay at Hogwarts, no matter how much she tried to avoid it. She was aware that a few of the students clad in green and silver stared at her greedily whenever they thought she couldn't see them, and some of them were even female. As such, she tried to limit the amount of time she spent alone, as having no witnesses if anything ever happened would mean that the British would be able to do whatever they wanted with little opposition from the law.

She was honestly starting to regret coming to Hogwarts, even if the opportunity to show her peers that she wasn't, as many thought, a hussy with only her good looks going for her. She wanted to prove to everyone that just because she was part-Veela didn't mean she didn't know the meaning of hard work and study, or that she was weak. The Tournament was her opportunity to shine and show the conceited fools that believed that those of Veela blood were only good as bed partners were wrong.

There was also a nagging feeling at the back of her mind that something was going to go horribly wrong at some point, and she dearly hoped that her instinct was wrong.

-Break-

The next day saw the students of all three school taking their breakfast in the Great Hall. So far, the three groups hadn't mingled much, but this could be due to the fact that they had yet to have a reason to mingle together. There were a few conversations between students of Hogwarts and of foreign students, but so far they were few and far between, even though they had several topics they could discuss, such as the Tournament, as well as the recent events.

All in all, even if there was little interaction between the students of all three schools, the atmosphere was still livelier than usual, as many discussions could be heard, most of them either about the Tournament, or about the drawing of a Fourth Champion, one who just happened to be famous. Viktor Krum was a different case, he was a well-known figure in the Quidditch area, however Harry Potter had something of an aura of mystery about him that only served to spark the interest of the excitable teenagers. After all, not only had he mysteriously defeated a Dark Lord at the age of one, but he had also disappeared and nobody had any idea of where he was, and many had their own theories about what could have happened of him after the death of his Muggle relatives.

Some, the most realistic, were of the opinion that he had either grown on the streets, or had been adopted by a people who knew about magic but for some reason didn't want him to attend Hogwarts, or even bask in his fame. However, the most popular rumors were also the least realistic, some saying that the Boy-Who-Lived had been taken in by a secretive group of powerful wizards, who had trained him to be the next Merlin, or that he had been killed by a group of Dark Creatures seeking vengeance for the death of their Lord. All of them were in agreement on one thing though: if Harry Potter was alive, he would come to Hogwarts to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. He had no choice in the matter, but who really cared about that?

The atmosphere at the staff's table was far different from the excited chatter of the students though, since several of those sitting there were in a very bad mood. Both Olympe Maxime, the French Headmistress, and Igor Karkaroff, the Eastern European Headmaster, were quite peeved and displeased by the current situation, as they felt cheated. The Tournament was an occasion supposed to promote international unity, but they had a single Champion each, while the British had two representatives. The only reason they hadn't been more vocal about their displeasure was that they knew very well that Harry Potter's whereabouts were unknown, and as such that there was a chance that he would not be able to compete. Still, they were unhappy with the situation, as someone had to have put the boy's name in the Goblet, and since they doubted one of their students would do so, it left only someone of British nationality who could have done it.

But even their anger and rightful indignation paled next to Lily Potter's reaction to the news. To say that she was furious was like saying the sun was warm: a gross understatement. In fact, for all those who had witnessed her explosion, it had been made abundantly clear that angering the redhead was equivalent to a death sentence. Her anger had been great enough that her magic had been visible, forming a shifting aura of anger around her, and even Dumbledore, someone who had stood proud and tall against Voldemort himself, had been cowed quite thoroughly. Her tongue-lashing was well on its' way to become legendary, and quite a few of those who had witnessed the scene had made sure to put aside the memories to watch them again later.

Even if it had been two days since the names of the Champions had been revealed, the Potter matriarch was still very much angry, although now her anger seemed to have somewhat simmered down enough that she did not lash at everyone and everything. That did not prevent her from making it abundantly clear that she held Dumbledore personally responsible for what had happened, and that she did not want anything to do with him anymore unless it was directly related to her work.

This meant that the joyous and excited atmosphere surrounding the students' table was nowhere to be seen, as while some of the teachers conversed together, most kept silent and ate without saying a word, wanting to be gone from the oppressive atmosphere of the table as soon as possible. Strangely enough, Dumbledore himself was chatting amiably with McGonagall, ignoring completely the glares sent his way by Lily Potter, although for those who knew him, it was clear that he was very subdued compared to his usual exuberant self.

"By the way, where is our dear Hagrid?" asked the old man, after using his napkin to clear the marmalade that had made its' way in his beard. "I have not yet seen him this morning."

"He is tending to some of the creatures he plans to introduce to the students this year, or so I heard. He should not take long, he seemed to be quite famished when I saw him this morning."

Dumbledore simply nodded, humming and making himself another toast, all the while making sure to avoid looking in the direction of Lily Potter. Her anger with him was justified, nonetheless, he couldn't afford to have the family of the Chosen One unwilling to listen to him. This meant that he had to find a way to mend his relationship with the Potters, mainly the matriarch, since she was the one who resented him the most. James, the dear boy, while angry, was nowhere near as furious as his wife, fortunately, and he was quite confident in his ability to make the Lord Potter confide in him once more. Lily Potter though, was another story entirely. She knew how to hold a grudge, and since she still resented him for not being able to properly keep her son safe, he would have to work hard to regain her trust.

However, he was distracted of his musings by a commotion coming from the entrance of the Great Hall. A brief flash of blonde hair and black robes him told him all he needed to know, that Lucius Malfoy's son had once again opened his mouth to spit thoughtless comments. He sometimes wondered how the lad had ended in Slytherin, as so far he had yet to see any cunning in the boy. And he would rather not think of the alternative reason as to his presence in the House of Snakes. To think that a teenager had no redeeming qualities but his ambition was not something he liked to consider.

He fully expected the other teachers to handle the matter, as it was hardly the first time that the boy had provoked someone and created a commotion, although most of the time his father's reputation allowed him to escape unscathed. Minerva especially was used to dealing with the blonde, as her Lions were the ones the Malfoy Heir taunted the most, much to her ire, as Severus did absolutely nothing to curb his Godson's behavior, something that he would rather not admit was his doing. He feared that if the boy might turn Dark if he felt unjustly punished, which was unfortunately all the time, as such he tried to avoid giving detentions to the blonde, as he did not want Draco to follow too readily in his father's steps. He had no doubt that the boy had no idea of what serving Voldemort truly meant, and that if he was ever to see firsthand what it entailed, that he would pause to think about what he truly wanted. He hoped that by showing the boy that the Light was about forgiveness, while the Dark was all about asserting your powers on others.

Seeing Minerva briskly walking towards the commotion, he readily followed, since he had seen that Olympe and Igor had been discreetly observing him. He knew that neither of the two had forgiven him for the selection of a Fourth Champion, not when the Tournament was supposed to be fair and held between only three schools. And since it was held at Hogwarts, the security was entirely up to him. Alastor, his old friend, had been up all nights to keep an eye on the Goblet, to make sure that nothing like this happened, yet someone had obviously managed to get past him. Now, the foreign delegations were watching him like hawks, and the slightest things would no doubt be used to have him resign. His post was already in danger of being taken from him at the end of the year, as such he needed to show everyone that he was still able to perform his duties.

As he walked, he recognized the voice of Ivy Potter arguing with the Malfoy Heir, and he accelerated his pace. The last thing he needed was for the two of them to end up trading spells.

-Break-

Ivy was seriously considering murdering Malfoy for once. Sure, usually he was quite the nuisance, walking around with a holier-than-thou attitude that grated on her nerves, as well as giving her lecherous glances when he thought she couldn't see him. He had made no mystery of his utter disdain for her, saying that she was a "half-blood whore's daughter", and that she was lucky that he even gave her the slightest bit of attention. The fact that he usually found himself cursed quite thoroughly afterwards helped her deal with his antics, even if she couldn't get back at him directly, lest it cause trouble for her family and her.

However, if there was one thing she would not forgive, was for him to insult her brother in front of her. Even if she had never met him, she still admired him, and she refused to let the spawn of a Death Eater who had wormed his way out of Azkaban by bribing people, a coward, to insult her brother. As such, she had, albeit with great difficulty, made sure to push exactly the buttons she knew would anger the short-tempered Slytherin, since even if they did fight, she wanted to be able to claim she had acted in legitimate defense.

"What did you say about my father, Potter?" snarled the blonde, his wand in his hand and pointing at her, clearly ready to use it.

"I said that if he was such a great man, then why did he have to bribe his way out of Azkaban when the Master he licked the robes of was vanquished by my brother? So if my brother is a "pathetic cheater", then what does that make your father? A pathetic coward?"

By the ugly puce color the blonde had become, she knew she had hit the jackpot, and that there would be a fight. The other students seemed to have realized it as well, as quite a few had formed a circle around them, and others from the Great Hall were staring at them. It still baffled her that instead of going to fetch a member of the staff, they stayed and watched the fights between students, but since they were in good view of the staff's table, she guessed there was little need to fetch a teacher when they would show up by themselves.

She could see the teachers heading their way, meaning that if she wanted to destroy Draco's reputation even further she needed to act quickly. Interestingly enough, the blond, despite the fact he insulted pretty much everyone at one point or another, couldn't cope with a single insult himself, such was his pride.

"Well then?" she taunted, making sure that her voice was low enough to not be heard by the teachers, "Nothing to say to defend your father?"

With a snarl of anger, the blonde's hand flew to his wand in his robes, taking out and pointing it at her, the tip already glowing with a faint glow, the color telling her that the older Slytherin was planning on using a blasting curse. However, as she knew that Draco was very short tempered, she had already reached for her own wand, knowing that she was a faster spell caster than her opponent. She had taken Hermione's advice to heart, and had made sure to avoid unnecessary gestures, like the ones the Malfoy Heir showed each time he used his wand. While he added unnecessary flashy moves to his casting, she focused mainly on efficiency.

With a whisper, she cast a shield in front of her, and saw the shimmering of the air as it materialized. It was a relatively unknown spell that she had found in the family library, and something not quite on the level of the shield charm, protego, but it worked, and had the added bonus of being able to deflect most low level curses. She had tested it with Hermione Granger, and it had held against most spells of her impressive arsenal, so long as she did not deliberately overpower them. It would be more than enough to protect her from spells coming from a wizard as weak as Draco.

Said Slytherin's wand was finishing being leveled at her, and his mouth was already uttering the first syllable of the curse, when a hand shot out of nowhere and gripped his wrist, hard, making him cry in pain and stop his casting in favor of holding his hurt wrist. As he turned to look at who had stopped him, Ivy did the same, and she froze.

The woman currently glaring at Draco was most certainly not someone she had already seen at Hogwarts, and her attire was more than enough to make everyone aware that she was most likely not a witch, or if she was, one that hadn't set foot in the British Wizardry world for a very long time, because she would have heard about someone like her.

The newcomer looked to be in her forties, although her face was remarkably smooth, showing little signs of age, but her hair was, surprisingly, of an uniform grey, a rarity as most wizards and witches never greyed completely, be it because their magic kept their hair in good enough shape that it didn't loose its' original color, or because those who did grey were vain enough to use glamours to hide their new hair color. Her eyes, which were of a piercing grey, were narrowed at the blonde glaring at her, and something in them reminded Ivy of her mother or McGonnagal when they were angry. Her attire was also quite different from what was usually seen in the British magical society, since most wore robes, the only differences being the type of cut, the material, or the color. However the newcomer was clothed in Muggle clothing, with a black top, trousers, and surprisingly, what Ivy identified as a lab coat, something that no Pureblood would know about, let alone wear. She was also a smoker, as she could see a cigarette in the woman's mouth, the tip glowing a faint red as she inhaled the smoke.

Behind the newcomer was another woman, clad this time in a white button-up shirt, with dark pants and a black overcoat. She, much like the woman who had stopped Draco, had uniform grey hair, although hers was spikier, and mid-long. She also seemed rather uncomfortable with the attention she was being given, but was also glaring at the blonde Slytherin with something akin to disgust.

"Who are you, woman? Don't you know who I am? I am Draco Malfoy, and when my father hears of this, he will make sure you…"

"Oh, shut up." snarked the woman, glaring at the suddenly silent blonde. It was not a surprise that the teen had lost his ability to speak, as it was the first time in the memory of any student that anyone was so blunt with the boy. Most people usually didn't dare openly insult him, as Lucius Malfoy was known to have many connections, and to be able to make anyone's life difficult if he decided to, which meant that most Muggleborns and Half-Bloods didn't dare openly defy him. As for the staff, most were not the type of people to bluntly tell the teen to behave, instead docking points or giving him detention. So to have someone tell him to shut up, as the newcomer had done, was something that he most likely did not expect.

"W-what? Didn't you hear me, I am Draco Malfoy!" stuttered Draco, his face red in anger at being so casually ordered around.

"And I don't care, so shut up, and go get me Dumbledore, or whoever is in charge. I have quite a few things to discuss with him, and I don't want to hear a whiny brat throwing a temper tantrum at the moment. I have better things to do."

"There is no need for that, I am here." said Dumbledore's voice, and Ivy turned to see that the Headmaster, along with a majority of the staff, were now standing at the entrance of the Great Hall, a few of them glaring at Malfoy while others seemed happier to look at the newcomer questioningly. "Now may I know who you are and what you seem to want to discuss with me?"

For a moment, all was still, then, faster than anyone could react, the woman had stepped forward, standing in front of Dumbledore, and given him a resounding slap, that sent the older man reeling back in shock.

"That was for sending Harry with those animals, and not even bothering to check on him, you old moron!" she hissed, her voice laced with anger and disgust.

As a few members of the staff, mainly McGonnagal and Sprout, fumbled for their wands, the newcomer gave the stunned Dumbledore another slap, on the other cheek this time, shocking the people present even further.

Even if Dumbledore was no longer seen as the second coming of Merlin by most of those of the younger generation since the Potter scandal, many of the older wizards and witches had spent all their lives believing that the old man was infallible, and had seen him as something of a sacro-saint figure. This, along with the fact that most wizards and witches tended to use magic whenever they were angry, be it to curse or hex someone, made the fact that an unknown woman had just slapped one of the most respected wizards to be produced by the British magical society all the more shocking.

"And this, was for fucking up again and allowing someone to make Harry compete in this Tournament of yours!"

By now, most of the staff had found their wands and were pointing it towards the woman, only to jump back when animals made of pure fire jumped in front of them, snarling or hissing at them.

"Fiendfyre?!" spluttered one of the teachers, aghast.

After all, it was a known fact that the only fire spell that produced animals made of fire was the Fiendfyre spell, a very Dark one, or so many were told. Nobody had ever managed to create another fire spell that reproduced the same effects, although Ivy didn't think that many had even tried to. Though she was impressed by the speed with which the spiky-haired woman had taken out her wand and cast a nonverbal spell, not many managed to reach that level of proficiency in using magic.

By now, the entrance was divided into three, the students having wisely chosen to back out and watch from the sidelines, while the staff were standing at the entrance of the Great Hall, blocking the newcomers and preventing them from entering it. Finally, the two women were standing in the middle of the entrance, and, surprisingly, didn't seem to be overly worried, despite the fact that they were only two against the entire staff of Hogwarts.

"Now, Dumbledore, you and I are going to have a long chat, and depending on whether or not I am satisfied with the answers you provide, you might get out of this without me reporting you to the ICW for child endangerment." growled the woman who had slapped the Headmaster, her eyes ice cold as she glared at the old man, who was still holding his cheek in shock.

"Don't bother, Takami." cut her off a new voice, male this time, making those present stare at the entrance of the castle. "The moment they realize who I am, those old morons are more likely to award him an Order of Merlin for managing to find me."

At the entrance of the castle now stood three more people, two of whom had the same uniform, grey hair than the two women who were standing in front of the staff, although the shade of the color were different. Out of the three, only one appeared to be male, and even then it was hard to tell, as his face was quite effeminate.

The one who had spoke, the only male of the group, was standing in front of the two others, his mismatched eyes glaring at the staff, more precisely at Dumbledore and to Ivy's surprise, at her parents. He wore entirely black clothing, not that many of those present could say anything since Hogwarts' robes were almost entirely black as well. However, while his clothing's color was similar to the one of their robes, that was where the similarities ended. For one, the man's clothing was Muggle-styled, which meant he wore black pants, a black shirt and a black, love-sleeved shirt. On his hip, was tied the sheath of a sword unlike any Ivy had ever seen, easily longer than she was tall, while also being ridiculously thin. The newcomer's face was stormy, his strangely mismatched eyes glaring at Dumbledore with unending hatred, and his hand had closed around the hilt of his sword, his fingers twitching as if he was sorely tempted to use it on the aged Headmaster.

Next to the man was a woman almost identical to him, with the same long grey hair, although her own was worn in a ponytail. She, unlike her male counterpart, wore no pants, instead sporting a leather skirt that Ivy found very short, as it ended mid-thigh, showing the woman's long legs and black stockings. What really unsettled Ivy though, was the manic grin on her face as she watched the standoff between the woman who had slapped Dumbledore, her companion, and the staff, while her fingers clenched and unclenched around the hilt of her sword. Her eyes also had a predatory glint in them as she stared at the assembled teachers, and the Potter heiress found herself shivering at the bloodlust she could almost sense coming from the woman.

Trying to avert her eyes from the bloodthirsty woman, she found herself staring at the last of the group, who, unlike the others, seemed to be almost subdued, standing behind the man, almost as if she was his shadow. She felt a slight twitch of jealousy when she saw the amount of cleavage the woman was showing, since as she was only twelve, her own breasts were nowhere near as remarkable. Unlike her companions, the woman was a brunette, with mid-long chestnut hair that hid part of her face, although what little of her expression could be seen was a blank face, which made Ivy shiver slightly at how unnatural it was.

"Who are you?" asked Dumbledore, who had apparently recovered enough that he could actually speak again, his hand having slipped inside his robes to fetch his wand.

"Me?" growled the man, looking moments away from murdering the Headmaster, "I'm the Fourth Champion of your little Tournament."

"…Harry?"

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CLIFFHANGER AGAIN! MOUAHAHAHAHAAA! Sorry, but I've only finished writing this today, so there is no way you will have another chapter before at the very least one month (IRL is a b*tch). I admit that I had a hard time finding a way to introduce Harry to Hogwarts in a sufficiently shocking way, but I found that I like the way I've done it here, I only hope you'll like it as well.

As for Takami slapping Dumbledore, well it's something I see her doing, especially when she has spent years watching Harry grow into who he is now, and that he still has deep mental scars because of Dumbf*ck's meddling.

Review at your leisure!