Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Press and Warner Brothers, not me.
A/N: Fanfiction recommendation of the day: "Strange Reflections" by LeQuin. An excellent and non-clichéd interpretation of a bizarre Wrong-Boy-Who-Lived scenario. A solid mixture of drama, humour and mystery.
Chapter 5 – Where in the World is Harry Potter?
1 September 1997
"Potter."
"Miss Granger, so lovely to see you. You're looking well." Charlie gave a slight bow in greeting to the bushy-haired girl. "Do anything interesting for your holidays?"
"None of your concern," she replied coldly and swished past him to board the Hogwarts Express.
The Potter boy was unfazed by the response, having grown used to the girl's frosty temperament over the years. What else can you expect from the Ice Queen of Hogwarts? he mused. Whatever his personal irritation at the girl's aloof demeanour and holier-than-thou attitude, he still needed to play the role of dashing, polite and (most important of all) handsome prince of Hogwarts while the press and public were still gathered around.
The Platform was crowded as usual, with students and parents contending for space with the hordes of fans and paparazzi, all hoping for a glimpse, a photo, an autograph, and/or a handshake from the three potential 'Chosen Ones' who would save Britain. It wouldn't do to act anything less than heroic, even when confronted with rude people like Granger. He waved to his adoring public, flashing them his Most Charming Smile for which he'd been awarded first place by Witch Weekly Magazine 10 times and by Teen Witch Weekly Magazine 17 times. Outbidding that prat Neville Longbottom with the editors and the National Witches' League was gruelling and pricey, but the victory was oh-so-sweet in the end. And since said Longbottom was still swanning around the New World, there was nobody to steal House Potter's thunder on this very fine day.
His mother, father and sisters arrived on the scene, setting off a cavalcade of screams and flashing bulbs. The five of them posed for the cameras and shook hands for the next 20 minutes, standard stuff. The crowd only began to disperse when the whistle blew. Charlie, Ivy and Rose made their final goodbyes to James and Lily.
"Is it like this every day for you?" asked Harry who'd been watching in bemused fascination. Bellatrix and Tamsin hid behind him, gripping his new Hogwarts robes. The girls disliked strangers, crowds and unfamiliar places at the best of times. They despised all three together. And yet they still clung to him instead of listening to his urging to follow Hermione onto the train.
"Pretty much," Charlie nodded. "You gotta embrace the tidal wave. The only other options are to go into seclusion – like Dumbledore does at Hogwarts – or tell the vultures to back off. Which never works. You'd end up having to sneak around and run away from them all the time; and they're more persistent than doxies. Look at what happened to Princess Diana last night."
"Oh you heard about the accident did you? I didn't realise you followed Muggle news."
"The Royal Family may be Squibs but they're still the only Royal Family that magical Britain's got. Plenty of witches and wizards follow what the Crown's up to. I hear that a bunch of Purebloods are agitating to go over to France and give those quote 'uppity Muggles' endquote a darn good hiding to show the wizarding world's displeasure."
"Wouldn't that violate the Statute of Secrecy?" asked Harry as the group boarded the Express.
"They'll pretend to be Muggle muggers or gangs, I expect. That's what they usually do. Princess Di's death is just an excuse for them to get their kicks thrashing some random people who can't fight back. And if there's one thing the general magical public dislikes more than Muggles, it's French Muggles …"
"Disgusting savages," hissed Bellatrix.
"They should be stoned," agreed Tamsin.
"Pretty sure they are half the time. And of course it's awful, that's why they're part of the Dark alliance," Charlie retorted sagely. "Come on, the Weasleys are holding a car for us."
The three Potter children herded the three Grangers to a compartment with a red Gryffindor scarf wrapped around the handle. Charlie rapped a complex pattern on the door with his knuckles. There was a brief shudder of magic, and the door slid open.
"Sorry about all the security," Rose said, as the occupants closed and barricaded the door with a panoply of spells. "The mouth-breathers who worship Longbottom and the Dark Wizard wannabes who idolise Lestrange love to try and cause us havoc when they can."
"Okay chaps, this is my girlfriend Ginny Weasley, my best mate Ron Weasley and our friends Dean Thomas and Walter Diggory, and you've already met my sisters Ivy and Rose," Charlie introduced everyone. "The Weasleys, Diggories and Thomases are some of the right sort of families, stick with them and you'll get by just fine. Everyone, this is Harry, Tamsin and Bellatrix Granger."
To his amusement, Tamsin parked herself in Harry's lap. As the train shuddered around a bend, he unconsciously wrapped her arm around her waist, pulling her tighter against himself. Bellatrix wedged herself in the space between his body and the window and slipped an arm through his.
"'Sup. Charlie here vouches for you, which means you get a Get-Out-of-Pranking-For-Free Pass. Unless you annoy us, of course," grinned Ron. "Hahaha, just kidding! I hope we can all be good friends."
"That's not what you said the last time you saw me," Harry muttered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"I said I'm looking forward to it. I hear you guys are pretty legendary around Hogwarts."
"Darn right," Ron puffed up with pride. "We pretty much have the run of the place."
"If you run into any trouble at Hogwarts, feel free to let me know," said Ginny, snuggling up to Charlie's shoulder. The girl radiated warmth and vitality. She seemed far more outgoing and self-confident than the Ginny Weasley Harry knew, who could only squeak, stutter and put her elbow in the butter. Of course, it could be the age difference; three years was a long time for a teenager.
"Unbelievable," Harry growled to himself, "Three years spent trying to befriend the Weasley family again and all I had to do was become a transfer student to Hogwarts …"
Ignoring Harry's soft muttering, the veterans were sizing up the newbies. The two girls were the same age and looked vaguely similar; both featured pale skin and thick curly black hair. Possibly fraternal twins. Tamsin was shorter with more delicate features and a sharp little chin, with endless black abysses for eyes, and had her hair cut at the shoulders. Bellatrix had a stronger jawline and high aristocratic cheekbones, had eyes of brilliant violet, and let her hair grow down to her waist in elite Pureblood fashion. If Charlie didn't know better, he'd imagine she was a scion of one of the Noble and Most Ancient Houses. Harry on the other hand looked nothing alike. He had the same chestnut-coloured eyes and hair that Hermione did, and his hair was the same tangled rats' nest, but aside from that the boy resembled Charlie himself more than anyone in the Granger clan.
"So, either of you birds looking for a boyfriend?" Ron waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Bellatrix and Tamsin glared at him, before very deliberately producing books and beginning to read.
"Smooth, Ron, real smooth," giggled Ginny.
"Ooooh, I know that chilling glare real well," chuckled Dean. "Those two are definitely related to the Ice Queen."
"Ah, sorry about those two, they can be shy when they're around strangers." Harry scratched his head with his free hand.
"Don't worry about it, mate, I get it – it's not every day you get to meet celebrities," grinned Ron. "It can be pretty overwhelming, I'm sure. We've had lots of practice dealing with starstruck chicks."
"Is that a fact?"
"Yep. So you're the Know-It-All's brother and sisters eh?" The redhead gave them another appraising look.
Harry shrugged. "Not really. We're adopted. We only got the surname and started living with her about three years back."
"So where are your real parents?" The youngest Weasley boy tossed an Everlasting Gobstopper into his mouth.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "That's a very good question," he said coldly.
The carriage fell into an awkward silence. Charlie interjected before the situation deteriorated.
"Well, er, Hermione is … um … very smart," he said lamely, scrabbling for a topic to save the dying conversation. "I don't think she's ever gotten anything but O's on a test the entire time she's been a Hogwarts student."
Harry nodded. "Doesn't surprise me. Everyone in the Granger clan is brilliant," he said proudly. "'Cept me of course – I'm the black sheep," he spread his hands in a self-deprecating gesture.
"I know what you mean," said Charlie knowingly. "Give me a broom or an obstacle course or a competition or some practical exam and I'll crush it! Ask me to write three feet of parchment on the 7 uses of dragon's blood and I'm pants. My twin sisters are the scholars of the family. Take after my Mum."
Harry glanced at the pair. "You sure seem to take after you mother in a lot of ways. Scholarly, redheaded, similar facial features … should I be worried about the famous Evans temper?"
"Only if you're a prat," said Ivy.
"Yeah, we hear that sort of thing a lot," Rose grumbled. "Especially from our Professors. Do you know what it's like being forever compared with your parents?"
"Hmm, maybe a bit …" said Harry.
"Hah! You know nothing! Try having your mother as your Potions Professor and your Head of House, your father as your Defence Professor, and two of their dearest friends as joint Care of Magical Creatures Professors?" Rose snorted.
"That sounds tough."
"Darn straight," Ivy growled. "People think we can get away with anything – but that's only true if we're alone; whenever we get spotted by any witnesses or any other professors, we get an even harsher penalty from our parents! It's so unfair …"
"I … see …"
"Okay, I think we should leave the boys to their boy-talk. Come on, we'll introduce you to some fifth-year girls you'll be taking O.W.L.s with," announced Rose.
"And I'll introduce you to some sixthies," Ginny offered.
Tamsin and Bellatrix's eyes shifted to Harry. He gave the minutest nod.
"Sure," said Bellatrix.
The girls swarmed out of the car like a horde of very attractive locusts.
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"This is so humiliating," whined Harry. He and the girls towered over the ickle firsties standing eagerly in line for their Sorting. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the Great Hall boring into him.
As in his memories of the previous timeline, the students were called forward one by one in alphabetical order to receive the cephalic guidance.
"Nobody likes a Grizzling Gertrude or a Grumbling Germaine, Harry," Bellatrix chided piously.
"Just focus on the plan," Harry massaged his temples.
"I still don't see why we have to go there," Tom folded her arms peevishly. "I still think Slytherin would be more fulfilling."
"Sure, if you want to be branded a Dark Witch for the rest of your life no matter what you do, and be forced to spend years of your life trapped in a house full of Pureblood bigots who despise you for things you can't change. On other hand, my way means we all get to stay in the same house, get individual rooms, get to hang out with Luna, and your housemates are all obsessed with self-study – which means nobody will care what we do, which means we can do as we please."
Tom frowned. "I've been thinking. That professor up there at the teacher's table … the one with black hair and glasses … he looks amazingly similar to you."
"I-Is that so …?"
"In fact," added Bellatrix, instantly jumping onto the bandwagon, "if it weren't for the fact that you're wearing coloured contact lenses and dyed your hair, you'd look almost identical. Like a miniature professor …"
"I do recall that every time we go to a magical location, he always wears a cap and sunglasses."
"One might almost suspect he's disguising himself …"
"Isn't it funny how he never talks about his past …"
"I'll make you a deal," Harry said hastily, "Go with the plan and I'll let you interrogate me later. And I'll even throw in a secret tour of the Shrieking Shack as a bonus …"
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"GRANGER, Bellatrix! … hmm? What? … really? … but if I might suggest … that stubbornness would suit you well in … you wouldn't dare … ugh, fine … on your own head be it, RAVENCLAW!"
"GRANGER, Harry! … well well well, that's not something you see everyday … not another one! … this really isn't necess– … whatever, I don't have time for this, RAVENCLAW!"
"Septima," Lily whispered to Professor Vector. "Does the Sorting Hat sound a bit … surly to you?"
"GRANGER, Tamsin! … aargh! … but … oh for the love of Godric, RAVENCLAW!"
"And that's three for three! Sorry Minerva," cackled Flitwick. "Looks like the rankings will be locked in for Ravenclaw for the foreseeable future, hehehehehe. That's 30 Galleons you owe me."
"By the petrified brain of Mesgegra," cursed McGonagall. "Foiled again!"
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"Welcome to another year of education and enjoyment as both student and professor alike join hands together to explore the fascinating wonders of Magic and Friendship. And one may well ponder whether these two things are in fact linked on a fundamental level," smiled Headmaster Dumbledore as he looked out onto a sea of fresh young faces. "Be that as it may, now that we have eaten and drunk our fill, I have three important announcements to make. Number one: the Forbidden Forest remains, as always, forbidden. Number two: it is my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup has been cancelled this year."
A rumble of discontent swirling through the Great Hall.
"You're joking!" howled Ron in absolute fury.
Harry froze.
"What's wrong?" Bella asked curiously.
"Déjà vu …" he muttered, gazing at who had to be the members of the four Quidditch teams writhing about in conniptions of speechless apoplexy at their respective house tables.
Dumbledore was unperturbed by the outcry. The serene smile never leaving his face, he continued, "This is due to announcement number three: it is my immense pleasure to inform you that in two months' time, Hogwarts will be hosting a sensational event that I am sure you will all thoroughly enjoy. The world's inaugural Grand International Thaumaturgical Tournament will be taking place at this very castle!"
This time the Hall exploded into cacophony.
"You're joking!" howled Ron in absolute delight.
Harry's brow furrowed.
"After many long and gruelling years of steadfast effort, the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Games and Sports in conjunction with the Department of International Magical Cooperation have finally reached an agreement with 6 of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world, to launch what will be the very first of many international competitions! The Grand International Thaumaturgical Tournament will take place septennially on a rotating basis. The next G.I.T.T. will be held at Beauxbatons in the year 2004. That's right – every 7 years, the 7 greatest magical schools will send 14 champions to compete in 7 thrilling Tasks!"
The excitement in the air was now boiling over! Many students could barely contain their excitement and were on their feet, bouncing and swaying to unheard music. Even Tom and Bella were swept away by the mood, their lithe bodies buzzing and vibrating at his sides.
"The other 6 schools will be sending delegations of short-listed candidates that will arrive at Hogwarts exactly one month hence. Each school shall provide two champions each, a senior and a junior. The senior must be a witch or wizard of age. The junior may be of any age, provided they are deemed the most worthy to represent their alma mater. This pair will be called the Sacred Band, and will work as a team to overcome the obstacles placed before them during the 7 Tasks. The winning Band will obtain the prestigious, newly-crafted G.I.T.T. Cup, eternal glory for their school, and 2000 Galleons each as personal prize money."
The doors of Hall swung open, and four prefects – one representing each house – strode in carrying a large, gleaming silver cup. Reverently, the G.I.T.T. Cup was placed on a special podium on the teachers' table.
"And now to introduce our impartial judge, who will select the most suitable students from all schools to join the Sacred Bands. I present to you – the Goblet of Fire!"
The candles in the Great Hall flickered and dimmed. Everyone's eyes were again drawn to the doors, wherefrom another four prefects entered. They carried a large but nondescript cup; and yet it was mesmerising, for out of that cup swirled and spat blue-white flames. The student body was transfixed by the dancing fire. Reverently, the Goblet of Fire was placed on its own special podium near the Cup.
"Any student who wishes to submit their candidacy as one of the champions must write their name and school upon a piece of parchment and drop it into the Goblet. In two months, on the night of Halloween, the Goblet will announce the names of the successful contenders. Remember, the criteria is worthiness – that does not automatically equate to greater magical power nor magical knowledge. I eagerly await the selection of the Hogwarts Sacred Band!"
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Harry flounced into his newly-allocated room and locked the door.
"Dobby, Winky!"
'Pop'!
His confederates appeared.
"Listen up, we're facing a crisis. All your other tasks are on hold for now. From now until the selection of champions out of the Goblet of Fire on Halloween, you have one job, and one job only: I want you to work in shifts, and watch that Goblet like two little hawks. If anyone, and I mean anyone, casts magic on it or tries to carve runes in it, or whatever, you put a stop to it immediately, and then come and tell me. No matter what time of day or night, or whatever it is I'm doing. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes, Master Harrys sir!" they chorused.
"I already got entered into the Triwizard against my will," Harry said grimly. "I'm not going to get tangled up with some G.I.T.T.!"
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31 October 1997
The Great Hall was crammed full with thousands of candles and hundreds of spectators.
"There's no way our Charlie would lose out to the Longbottoms," Sirius declared, ruffling the lad's fiery red mane affectionately.
"Ow, gedoff!" the boy squirmed away.
The whole clan had rallied in support of their champion candidate. His parents James and Lily, his grandparents Fleamont and Euphemia, his Great-Aunt Dorea and his namesake, Great-Uncle Charlus. His sisters Ivy and Rose were standing by his side, as were Cedric and Walter Diggory, Dean Thomas, the Weasley family and Lee Jordan. The other Marauders were also present: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Amos Diggory.
Looking out over the assembled crowds, Charlie could see that the other factions had done the same.
"The Goblet is almost ready to make its decision," proclaimed Dumbledore grandly. His words triggered a vigorous round of camera flashes from the international press.
"The old goat's really milking this isn't he?" smirked Sirius.
"Shhh!" hissed Lily, jabbing his side.
"When the contestants' names are called, I would ask them to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through to the Chamber of Champions." The Headmaster gracefully gestured towards the nondescript door behind the staff table. "There our heroes will receive their instructions for the First Task."
With a great sweeping wave of his wand most of the candles were extinguished, plunging the Hall into semi-darkness. The Goblet shone brightly, the blue-white fire was painful to look at. Everyone burned their retinas anyway, staring intensively at the dancing flames, waiting in breathless anticipation ... Filch and Trelawney checked their watches.
"Any second now," James murmured, his hand on Charlie's shoulder clenching unconsciously. The young wizard squirmed in discomfort.
The flames inside the Goblet shifted into crimson sparks. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, two charred pieces of parchment were ejected from it; the whole room gasped.
Dumbledore caught the fluttering parchments and held them at arm's length so he could read by the light of the flames, which had returned to blue-white.
"The champions for Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, representing West Europe and the Mediterranean," he intoned in a strong, clear voice, "are Jeanne Aurélie DuMont, 17 years old, and Gabrielle Apolline DelaCour, 11 years old."
A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. A tall, curvaceous redhead stood gracefully from the Ravenclaw table, reached down to clasp the hand of a girl half her size and escorted her to the front. The latter preened under all the attention. She shook her sheet of glossy silver hair and blew kisses to her adoring public. The press photographers filled the Hall with camera flashes.
"That little girl is part-Veela unless I'm very much mistaken," Remus observed, nostrils twitching delicately.
"So young," Lily shook her head in dismay. "What were the organisers thinking letting such small children compete?"
"More like what was the Goblet thinking?" James said.
"Maybe the thing's on the fritz," opined Sirius.
"According to the Hogwarts rumour mill, that shrimp is some sort of prodigy," explained Ivy.
"Yeah, they say she's a genius at fire magic and transfigurations," added Rose. "Her whole House over in France are all Hit Wizards and Curse Breakers, apparently. Talented family."
"Well, we have no shortage of talent in our own family, right sport?" James grinned.
"Darn straight!" Charlie grinned back fiercely, fists clenched.
"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Rose nodded toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.
"That's one way of putting it," said Ivy drily. Half a dozen of the students who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms. "Such great sportsmanship on display."
The clapping and cheering died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the Goblet, which turned red once more. A second set of parchments shot out, propelled by the flames.
"The champions for the Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning, representing Central and North Europe," announced Dumbledore, "are Alexandr Grigorovitch Rasputin, 17 and Viktorya Krum, 15."
The Durmstrang students were far more charitable than their Beauxbatons counterparts. Dozens of students cheered and stamped their feet up and down, letting loose a thunderous rumble to match their roars. A tall, muscular slab of a boy rose from the Slytherin table and slouched towards Dumbledore, followed by a slight wisp of a girl. Her long blonde curls shimmered in the flickering candlelight. The pair turned right, walked along the staff table and disappeared through the door. It was a far more sedate affair than the previous champions'.
Remus' eyes widened. "No way, what are the chances of two part-Veela being chosen as competitors in the same contest?"
"Who cares about that guff, the important thing is she's the sister of The Victor Krum!" Ron interjected, quivering with excitement. "Bravo, Viktor!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Knew you had it in you! Let's beat Italy again next year!"
"Victor didn't actually have anything to do with her selection, you nibblet!" Ginny snarked.
"How do you know?" her brother shot back. "Obviously his world-class Quidditch-awesomeness and general manliness influenced his sister so much she became a champion!"
Ginny rolled her eyes and proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the evening.
The Headmaster continued to announce the champions of the other schools as they were selected by the Goblet's magic.
"The champions for the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, representing the Americas, are Anthony Goldstein, 17 and Rolf Scamander, 15."
"The champions for the Koldovstoretz Gymnasium, representing Eastern Europe and Central Asia, are Victorya Ivanovna Serebryakova, 17 and Tatyana Vasileyevna Degtyaryova, 13."
"The champions for the Mahoutokoro School of Magic, representing East Asia, South Asia and the Indo-Pacific Oceans, are Su Li and Padma Patil, both 17."
"The champions for the Uagadou School of Magic, representing Africa, are Adedamola Akingbade, 17 and Samuel Muriisa, 15."
"And finally, what you've all been waiting for – the champions of the host institution, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, representing Britain, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand, are …"
Silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts Sacred Band, finally here ...
The Goblet of Fire turned red once more, sparks showered out of it. The tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its apex Dumbledore seized the final set of parchments. The Potter-Black-Lupin-Weasley-Diggory-Thomas clan tensed and held their collective breath.
"The Hogwarts champions," the Professor bellowed, "are Neville Frank Longbottom and Draco Arcturus Lestrange, both 17!"
"NOOO! " shouted Ron, Charlie, James and Sirius in unison, but their screams were overwhelmed by the uproar from half the membership of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables and the entirety of the Slytherin table. Every single supporter of the Longbottom faction and the elite Dark faction leaped to their feet, screaming and stamping and hollering, as Neville and Draco shared high-fives and hugs with their parents, friends and minions. The journalists and photographers from The Daily Prophet were going crazy. The grand matriarch Augusta Longbottom even performed a miracle in honour of the momentous occasion – her wizened face managed to smile for 2.3 seconds!
"This can't be happening," whispered James in disbelief, fingers tearing at his wild black hair. "I must be dreaming … yes, I must've had a nip of Spores of Shroom Solution instead of Pepper-up Potion at breakfast by accident … that's the only explanation ..."
Charlie sagged bonelessly down into his chair. The spark of life had vanished from his hazel orbs, leaving only dark pools of despair. The would-be champion could only stare blankly as Neville and Draco made their way through the thick crowd of adoring fans, shaking hands as they went towards the chamber. His sisters and mother patted his shoulders awkwardly. Ron, Cedric, Walter, Dean and Sirius were gaping in bewilderment, unable to process this shocking twist.
The spectators roared and cheered even louder when Neville suddenly hugged the surprised Headmaster. Smiling benevolently, the old man patted the boy's head and gently guided him and a sneering Draco through the door.
"Showboating for the crowd? How despicable – this whole malarkey was a put-up job between Longbottom, Lestrange, Dumbledore and the Minister from beginning to end, you mark my words," growled Fleamont.
"Oh stop carrying on so, it's not the end of the world!" scolded Dorea. "So Charlie's had a little bit of a disappointment – time for you all to man up and support young Neville and Draco in the spirit of good sportsmanship and international friendship."
Her statement was met by incredulous stares. Even Charlus senior was eyeing his wife like she'd grown several new heads.
The applause for Longbottom and Lestrange went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again. James found himself grinding his teeth in frustration at the level of public support on display. His gaze met that of his father and uncle. Silently the three men agreed to call an emergency meeting of their political allies as soon as possible to devise countermeasures – the last thing they could tolerate was a surge of international prestige for their rival factions, that could have long-term negative consequences.
"Excellent!" the ancient wizard called happily as the tumult died down. "We now have our champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from our visiting schools, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your school's Sacred Band on, you will contribute in a very real –"
But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. The fire in the Goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it were five more slips of parchment.
In a daze the Headmaster reached out and plucked them from the air. He held them out and stared at the names written upon them. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then he cleared his throat and read out, "Charlus Sirius Potter, 16. Allison Longbottom, 16. Ivy Jane Potter, 15. Rose Dorea Potter, 15. Harry James Potter, 17."
A hush filled the Great Hall. A thousand eyes locked on to three Potter children and one Longbottom heiress, who were frozen in shock.
Professor McGonagall whispered into Professor Dumbledore's ear. He began to frown.
Lily slowly swivelled toward the four Marauders, wand in hand. The tip crackled and sparked menacingly. Her magic swelled up, causing her long red mane to frizz out due to the static. "Boys, if this is some kind of childish Marauder prank, I swear to Merlin –"
"It wasn't us!" Remus blurted. "Sure we wanted Charlie to compete, but we'd never drag the twins into anything without your okay first!" Sirius, James and Amos bobbled their heads in fervent agreement.
"And we certainly wouldn't have given the Longbottoms a double chance at the Cup," added Amos.
That argument seemed to clinch it as Lily nodded and retracted her claws. The men sighed in relief as the magical charge in the air faded away.
At the Ravenclaw table, Harry sat rigid as a maypole, a polite smile frozen on his face. How!? How could this have happened to me twice!? Once may be an accident, but fool me two times, shame on me … Is Time trying to return to the original set of events … or does Someone up there think this is funny? In a corner of his mind, he idly thanked Merlin that the Claws were primarily children of Neutrals, and so most were content to either sit and half-heartedly applaud, or half-heartedly feign shock and dismay at the surprise champions. He didn't think he could prod his body into jumping to his feet and cheering or jeering with his fellow schoolmates.
Bella and Tom had no such compunction, the two had long ago joined a gaggle of lower-year Ravens to gleefully swirl through the energetic crowd.
Harry leaned over and patted the back of the weeping Beauxbatons girl sprawled out on the table beside him, murmuring meaningless comforting noises – looking for all the world like a concerned friend – while his mind spun furiously.
Looking up, his eyes locked with Hermione's chocolate-brown orbs across the Hall at the Gryffindor table. She raised an eyebrow. Aren't you going to go up there?
He scowled. Not even wild Gryphons could drag me.
A slight twitch and curl of her lip. I could always let them know their missing champion's in this very room with them …
His face darkened. Try it and I will make it the mission of the rest of my life to make sure you suffer …
"Harry?" asked his watch.
"Not a word, Hermione," he growled. "Not. One. Word."
At the teacher's table, Dumbledore finally straightened up, nodding to McGonagall. "Will the Potter children and Miss Longbottom come up here, if you please!"
"Go on, kids," said James, giving Charlie a gentle push. "Your mother and I will be with you in a few minutes."
There was no applause as the three redheads and one brunette stumbled towards the chamber. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, filled the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at the four interlopers. The photographers were snapping away like mad.
"Through the door, children," urged Dumbledore. He and McGonagall weren't smiling.
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6 November 1997
"What a disaster," sighed James, slamming down The Daily Prophet in disgust. "The whole thing's turned into a bloody circus. Nothing but lurid headlines as far as the eye can read."
McGonagall's desk was covered with editions of the major international magical newspapers. He flopped down into the visitor's chair in exhaustion.
"At least we'll have enough fish-and-chips wrappers to last us a decade …" the joke was weak but it was the best he could come up with off-the-cuff after several sleepless nights.
His old Head of House snorted. "The I.C.W. is threatening to suspend Britain's membership if the culprits aren't found and convicted. It is certainly not what one had in mind when planning for greater international cooperation."
As the host institutions, Hogwarts and the Ministry were copping major flak from both the domestic and international press. The remainder of the outrage was directed squarely at House Potter, gleefully exacerbated by rival factions. James and the rest of the clan had spent the last few days desperately undertaking damage control. The only bright side was that Allison's selection as a Champion meant that House Longbottom hadn't escaped unscathed. But if the public trends were allowed to continue unabated, there was a risk that both the Longbottom faction and the Potter faction could lose control of the Light bloc in the Wizengamot and Ministry, possibly allowing it to be swallowed up by Dumbledore or the Greys.
"It seems the prevailing theory is House Potter and House Longbottom conspired with the Hogwarts staff and Minister Bones to rig the selection process to ensure that no matter what happened, the Potter and Longbottom children would be chosen as champions," the Deputy Headmistress added sourly, tossing her copy of Die Mitteleuropäische Zauberzeitung onto the pile. "How are the children handling it?"
"About as well as can be expected. Once the shock wore off, Charlie's been walking on sunshine. Been training with Sirius, Remus and Amos non-stop. The twins are cautiously optimistic. They hadn't seriously considered entering, but now they're Champions their social status amongst the Hogwarts witches has risen quite a bit. They're doing all they can to push back against Neville and Draco's influence. Lil's taking them for an interview for Teen Witch Weekly tomorrow."
"Any updates on the search for You-Know-Who?"
James winced. "You remember we sent him to live with Lils' Muggle relatives about five years' back … best for him to grow up among his own kind and all ... A few days ago she and Mum went to Surrey to pay her sister a visit, see if Harry could shed any light on the situation … They scarpered, Minerva! Apparently the whole ruddy bunch of them just up and moved house one day without a word to anyone; none of the Muggles in the neighbourhood had a clue where they went. And their new address isn't listed in the Muggle directories. Lils tells me that you can pay the government to keep your information private."
"They relocated?" McGonagall sat up a little straighter. "The timing's a wee bit suspicious, given what's happened with the Goblet."
"Eh? Oh no, it wasn't recent. They left Little Whinging a good three years ago."
"Ah," his old professor deflated. "But still, to disappear with nary a word? 'Tis dashed odd."
James shifted uncomfortably. "Lils and her sister don't exactly see eye to eye. The last few family reunions have been … tense. I guess we sort of lost touch over time … five years really went by in a flash … Since they came up with Buckleys, I pulled a few strings and got Scrimgeour to put Moody onto the case. Man's a living bloodhound. Don't tell Sirius I said that."
"Isn't he retired?"
"He still does the occasional side job for the DMLE if it interests him enough. And with all Hel breaking loose on the international stage, he's plenty interested. Plus, Lily promised to bake him one of her special-recipe pixies-in-the-hole if he's able to rustle up anything substantive." The door opened and the immaculate Potions Professor glided into the room, not a hair out of place as usual. "Ah, speak of the devil …"
"You keep calling me a devil behind my back and one day you may find my trident inserted into places angels fear to tread," his wife mock-threatened. "Now get yourself presentable, we need to get to our meeting with Bones."
He ran a hand through his tangled black locks. "How do I look?"
"Like you just lost a fight with a grain thresher," she smirked.
"Hah," he sniffed proudly. "Whatever state I'm in, the Potter charm conquers all – I can still pull any bird I want."
"Sure can, if you've lost interest in living," Lily muttered under her breath.
"Come again?"
"Not with that attitude you won't," she winked saucily.
They bid farewell to a scarlet-faced McGonagall and Floo'ed to the Minister of Magic's office.
"Come through and sit down, I don't have all day." Amelia Bones waved the couple in with brisk impatience. "You two are the last to arrive. … Now that we're all here, let's get down to business. I don't need to remind everyone that the past week's firestorm has given the Ministry a real black eye, and I for one have no liking for being sucker-punched. I hope you lot have some answers for me, because I have to join Dumbledore in front of an I.C.W. inquiry committee this afternoon and I'm running out of excuses to stonewall their investigators."
"There are a couple of points of interest," said Rufus Scrimgeour the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Don't beat about the bush Rufus, what've you got?"
"To begin with, the sabotage of the selection process." He nodded to James Potter.
"Professor Dumbledore and I went over the Goblet with a fine-toothed comb. No doubt about it: an overpowered Confundus Charm tricked the artefact into thinking there were 10 schools competing instead of 7," the former Chief Auror supplied. "Two of my children were entered as the only competitors for one school, and the other two for the second school, and the Longbottom siblings for the third, guaranteeing all 6 names came out of the Goblet. The culprit clearly didn't expect Neville to get chosen for real for Hogwarts. We tracked the magical signature, but only got as far as a nearby classroom."
"The spellwork must have been cast shortly after the Goblet arrived in Hogwarts. Most likely before it was even set up on display in the Great Hall. The magical trail has long since gone cold, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said gravely. "However, the fact that it was tampered with before the official announcement of the G.I.T.T. does narrow down our list of suspects somewhat."
"And why wasn't the priceless magical artefact under guard to prevent tampering?" the Minister demanded.
Scrimgeour ran a hand through his white leonine mane. "We didn't think it necessary – it's Hogwarts not a public venue, what could a bunch of children do?"
The Headmaster nodded slowly.
Amelia rubbed her temples. "And the missing Potter brat? Any idea about his involvement in this farce, if any?"
"Minister, with all due respect, the boy is a Squib," Scrimgeour began. "And one that was banished from the magical world years ago. There's no way he could have had anything –"
"Even so," she interrupted, "I'm not willing to overlook a single possible lead. Moody?"
"The lad was fostered out to Professor Lily Potter's Squib sister – one Petunia Dursley – in February 1993," Alastor began, his hideous scarred visage twisting into what could be an expression of enthusiasm, or regret, or indifference. "Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging in Surrey. In December 1994, Petunia along with her Muggle husband and Squib son, without warning packed their bags and moved, real stealthy-like. Tracing the husband's job history I discovered he'd transferred to a branch office of his company located in Bath. I eventually tracked 'em down to 16 Watercress Circuit, Nempnett Thrubwell."
"You found Harry?" Lily demanded.
"Afraid not, lass. The three of 'em weren't very talkative but once I put the screws on 'em a bit they folded like a Muggle suit. Fessed up that they'd shipped the boy off to the nearest orphanage a month after he arrived. Had the paperwork and everything. I used a bit of Legilimency to double-check, there's no doubt."
"Petunia did what!?" the redhead roared, springing to her feet. "How could she do that to her own flesh and blood?"
"The woman stated that she'd only taken in the wee laddie under duress, and couldn't wait to be rid of him."
"There was no duress! None whatsoever!" James said heatedly. Husband and wife clung together for mutual support. But the bad news kept on coming.
"According to Mr and Mrs Dursley there was an unspoken understanding that if they refused yer proposal they'd be transfigured into all manner of quote 'freakish tentacle-monsters' endquote and left to scrabble around in the sewers for the rest of their lives. So they had no choice but to nod their heads, and as soon as your back was turned, they could, eh, remove the contagion …"
"Lies!" snapped James.
"I can't believe you threw my baby into a Muggle orphanage," Lily whispered into James' chest. "I've read horror stories about those places … How could you, Tuney? Harry was just like you and Dudley …"
"Not from their perspective – anyone from the wizarding world is 'tainted' and 'unnatural' no matter whether they can wave a wand or not," Alastor grunted.
"Oh," Scrimgeour sneered disdainfully. "They're those kind of Muggles."
"Aye. Some of the most bigoted magic-haters I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Wouldn't trust 'em to take good care of a flobberworm. In my opinion, the lad was well rid of 'em." Moody ignored Lily and James' stricken looks and consulted his notes.
"So he's at some orphanage?" Sirius asked. "Then let's go fetch him now."
"Not possible, the Surrey Diocesan Children's Home was shut down by the state in August 1994 and the children distributed to other facilities all over England."
The Minister raised a greying eyebrow. "Dare I ask why, Alastor?"
"Lack of funding from the Muggle government in part. But for the most part: embezzlement, child abuse, child exploitation, contributing to the delinquency of minors, fencing stolen property, drug dealing, fraudulent tax returns, even a bit of human trafficking ... well, ye get the gist."
Sirius growled with menace and leaped out of his seat. He launched his lithe body towards the fireplace.
"Immobulus! Please Sirius, I know you are as distressed as the rest of us with this unfortunate news – if not far more so – but running wild will not avail us anything; let us hear the rest of the story first," Dumbledore gently told the now-frozen Auror.
Moody's tone was grim. "To make a long story short, there's a record of one Harry James Potter being registered for admittance back in '93, but that's it. After that it's like he vanished off the face of the earth."
Lily collapsed bonelessly against her husband.
Amelia groaned. "So he could be anywhere. There's no guarantee he's even still in the country …"
"I wouldn't go that far," Scrimgeour smirked. "I've been doing some digging of my own, and have reason to believe that the Squib resides in magical Britain."
Moody's electric blue eye whizzed around and locked on to the director. "And ye ken that how exactly?"
"Weasley!"
Percy Weasley bustled forward in great excitement. "Yes, Director. On 23 November 1994, Harry Potter applied for a copy of his personal files from the Hall of Records. On the same day he opened a new account at Gringotts. From 23 November to 5 December, he rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron."
"That's been his sole official contact with the wizarding world in the past five years so far as we can tell," Scrimgeour said. "It's not a lot to go on, but if someone were planning to flee the country or disappear into the Muggle world, why would they bother setting up a vault?"
"Interesting," mused Amelia. "Why would a Squib want to open a Gringotts account or stick around in the magical world? There's virtually no chance of obtaining employment or education. Did you get anything else out of the goblins?"
The Director shook his head. "They're required by Treaty to inform us of the opening and closing of vaults, but that's it. It's the usual, Chief. 'Gringotts cannot possibly provide sensitive information about its clients blah blah blah confidentiality agreements blah blah blah'. They won't hand over anything useful without a warrant from the Wizengamot."
"Good luck with that," the Minister sighed. "As if those corrupt windbags would ever allow a precedent for the Aurors to go digging into people's Gringotts records. So is that all we have?"
Remus raised his hand. The werewolf was a rather ghastly shade of white. "There is one more thing. Lily asked me to go through their backlog of mail, just in case there was anything of interest … well, the elves found these." He placed two letters, yellowed with age, onto the Minister's desk.
The group pored over the missives, trying to decipher the chicken-scratch scrawl. Unlike the florid gushings in most of the Potters' fanmail, the two letters merely stated that Harry Potter would like to book a meeting with his parents at their convenience. To the eyes of the adults, the query seemed to echo across a vast distance, tiny and forlorn.
"So the bairn escaped the orphanage when it shut down and went to London to make contact with his parents. Waited at the Leaky Cauldron for a couple of weeks but getting no reply, gave it up as a bad job and buggered off to parts unknown," Moody surmised. "Probably doesn't even know his name came out that Goblet."
"What have we done, James?" groaned Lily.
He could do naught but stroke his wife's hair.
I
IIIIIII
I
Percy Weasley hummed as he returned to his office, pleased that he'd been able to make such an important contribution to a high-level Ministry meeting. He didn't notice a small water beetle clinging to his collar. As he passed a window, it leaped off and flew away into the sky.
Next Time on ATTR: Chapter 6 – Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them