October 17th, 1994
Hogwarts

"Holy fucking shit!" Ron screamed when everyone saw the first task begin, a dragon set loose. "That is what this is?"

All of the Durmstrang students started to give out excited and increasingly aggressive war whoops when Krum swaggered into the arena, completely unperturbed by the fact a dragon was beginning to let out growl-like hisses. In between Ron and Hermione, Eddie nearly fell over into the arena to try and see better, the two of them pulling him back before anything bad could happen. Not too far away, with the other foregin leaders and school leaders, his father seemed stunned, in between disbelief and horror. Adrenaline was all Eddie could feel, however. He pushed his glasses back on his face, shaking out his short, dark curls when they nearly got trapped behind them. Hermione's fingers began to stab into his shoulder, even more so when they all saw Krum roll out of the way of yet another eruption of flames from the dragon. Ron screamed, in disbelief and excitement, but nearly all other sounds were drowned out by the dragon and, completely unsurprisingly, the proud roaring of the Durmstrang students.

"This is insane!" Eddie looked between Ron and Hermione. "Think Harry's gonna be okay?"

"I think so," Hermione lowered her voice. "Hagrid warned him," She whispered. "I hope that means he'll have a strategy. He had some extra lessons with Professor Moody, but I have no idea if that was to prepare for this."

Eddie grimaced, watching Krum continue his tit for tat with the dragon.

"I get what Sirius said about people dying because of this shit," Ron remarked, guilt pricking at him. "I can't believe I thought Harry would want to be part of something like this on purpose."

"In fairness, none of us knew just how insane this would be," Eddie briefly shrieked when the flames got almost too close to the forcefield. "Okay, actually, I take it back. Anything that can even suggest it could kill you wouldn't fuck around. And this is definitely not fucking around."

Hermione nodded. "Out of curiosity, wasn't America asked to take part in this too?"

"I think so," Eddie replied. "I'm sure MACUSA was outraged to even hear about this shit."

"MACUSA sounds like no fun," Ron started to let out an excited war whoop, too, when Krum grabbed the egg, and the dragon was subdued. "That's a good sign!" He hugged Hermione and Eddie. "See, people survive!"

"That's not -" Hermione cut herself off when the next dragon was brought in with another egg. "Oh, good Lord, this could so easily become a blood bath, what -"

"Yes, it will!"

Hermione, Ron, and Eddie turned around when Draco walked past, smirking at them.

"I bet Potter won't last ten minutes in this Tournament," He laughed. "But my father disagrees. Thinks he won't last five!"

Ron jumped at him, trying to punch him, but Draco slid out of the way and he instead tripped over several steps, knocking over a couple of other Hogwarts students in the process.

"Looks like being a blood traitor isn't enough for you," Draco sneered while he walked away to join the other Slytherins, who were focusing intently as Cedric entered the arena. "Always embarrassing yourselves, aren't you Weasley!"

Ron let out an angered screech, getting back to his feet and sending the others he had knocked over an apologetic look when he climbed back up to rejoin Eddie and Hermione.

"I'm going to kill him one of these days," He muttered. "Son of a bitch bloody deserves it."

The Hufflepuffs nearby let out gasps of shock, horror when the top of Cedric's head got grazed with the fire of the dragon. He got out of the way, and put out the fire starting on his head before it could damn near scalp him. Hermione leaned forward a bit, trying to get a closer look, and her fascination only grew when she watched Cedric manage to calm the dragon, at least to some extent. It was shocking, to say the very least, and it was then Hermione noticed that, among the professors, headmasters, and the three Ministers for Magic, the famed magizoologist and his wife - Newt and Tina Scamander - were watching the young man in awe. She found herself absolutely thrilled, hoping to get a chance to speak with them at some point. Ron and Eddie, however, did not seem to notice or care, instead excitedly watching as Cedric distracted the dragon long enough to swoop up the egg and get away.

The Hufflepuffs cheered loudly, some of them starting to cry. With them, his girlfriend, Cho Chang, was embracing her friends, crying too and so clearly happy, proud.

However, while Fleur Delacour stepped into the arena to face her dragon, and the Beauxbatons students all leaned forward, murmuring in French, there was a deep discomfort among those from Hogwarts. With the other members of the governments and schools, though, James Potter was perhaps the most disconcerted of any of them. He kept taking dark glances towards Crouch every few seconds, and the two men only occasionally met eyes, a sense of mutual hatred absolutely present in the air. No one else there seemed willing to acknowledge it, except for the incredibly frail woman beside the British Minister for Magic, who held her steady. It had been eight days. Eight days since she had come to, and, off her persistent and somewhat aggressive insistence, she had been let out after a week despite protests from doctors. All things considered, it was absolutely no surprise how visibly worried Fudge seemed.

"If they ever do this again in three years," Delia muttered. "I will never let our son get anywhere near this."

Neither of them said anything else. They didn't need to.

And, recent events aside, they both knew how and why she was a paranoid mother.

For that, it began in 1974.

"Please don't tell me you were trying to get her pregnant."

"We didn't expect it, mum, but we both knew we wanted kids, and -"

"You're too good for her, and not just because she's American. She's clearly hiding things."

"She's a very private person, mum."

"She has barely said anything about her life before she came here."

"You don't know her, mum. You've never even tried."

She had scoffed. "Michael," She had said, looking to her elder son and his wife. "What do you think of all of this? The timing seems awfully coincidental. I would be willing to bet that Miss Lysander planned this."

"Delia," Her younger son had corrected. "Her name is Delia."

"Frankly, I'm with Melissa," Gemma had shared a brief look with Michael. "I don't think Delia will be a very good mother, either. Too paranoid, I imagine."

What she - and the rest of them - hadn't known was that Delia had been listening from just behind the corner into the living room where the four of them were talking. Suddenly feeling horribly sick, the twenty one year old had all but slid down the wall onto the floor, pulling her legs up to her chest the best she could, one hand resting over her belly, and the other holding her glasses against her face while she had begun to silently cry.

Was her mother in law right?

Was she going to be a terrible mother for their daughter, did Neil deserve someone better?

"This is quite impressive," McGonagall remarked.

"Impressive?" James eyed her strangely.

"It's an incredible showing of their skill," Snape told him, not making any attempt to hide the contempt and condescension that laced every word he spoke to the man.

James narrowed his eyes. "I think that's a fancy way of saying it's a form of torture that forces them to adapt to a situation they shouldn't be put in to begin with."

Snape quirked an eyebrow, almost amused.

"And you wouldn't have taken up this opportunity while we were at school?"

James clenched his fists. "I'm not stupid. I never would have supported something like this."

"Would you?" Snape countered flawlessly. "I remember a very different James Potter, then."

"You don't know me," James hissed. "You've never even tried."

Snape met his narrow gaze. "And," He said dangerously. "Neither have you."

James bit his tongue, well aware that anything he could say would make the tension exponentially worse. The last thing he wanted was to somehow end up in a duel (something which had happened plenty of times before) and certainly not when Bartemius Crouch was the main source of his ire.

Harry was a quick learner, could think on his feet.

But he was also only fourteen.

His heart sank when Fleur also managed to retrieve her egg, and the last dragon was slowly brought into the arena. A Hungarian Horntail. It didn't take much of an expert to know the breed was notoriously dangerous. The fact anyone would let a child go up against such a creature was absolutely disgusting to James. With a heavy sigh, he forced himself not to rise to Snape's baiting, instead meeting the curious and somewhat concerned gaze of the famed magizoologist beside him. He offered Newt a small smile, rubbing his forehead. Noise didn't usually get to him but, for once, it was. Anxiety certainly didn't help with that either. When he saw his son nervously creep out into the arena, he almost threw up. The dragon seemed ready to kill. And for what? What did any of this do, what was the point? How could it be at all justifed just because of some fucking cup and some ancient magic?

"How much do you know about these?" James eventually said, curiosity and anxiety getting the better of him.

Besides, distracting himself from his son's fight was the best way to keep him from doing something rash to intervene.

"They're an endangered species," Newt replied, his voice steady and calm. "I advocated against this one being in the tournament, but the French and Norwegians refused when the British ministry started to pressure for it. They're incredibly territorial, as well. I believe this one is a female, if you watch the movements the creature makes around the egg, it's incredibly defensive, and -"

He let out a gasp of shock and incredulity when the fourteen year old managed to summon his broom, getting up into the air high enough to evade the fire from the dragon.

"Your son is a prodigal flyer!" Newt exclaimed.

"Thank God," Tina swore under her breath. "This is insane."

"Agreed," The only other American said.

The two women briefly shared a knowing look, and a bit of a smirk.

They were, after all, both MACUSA aurors, one of them having played a major role in defeating Gellert Grindelwald, and the other the current head of MACUSA's Department of Investigative Crimes and Magical Law Enforcement.

"He became a seeker as a first year," James said, pride for his son swelling in his chest. "Youngest in centuries."

Newt briefly stared between father and son in awe.

"I have always loved seeing spur of the moment solutions. Was actually how I managed to get a lot of my information on creatures in my early career."

James laughed. "Are the rumours you spent a couple of years in the Amazon rainforest true, then?"

"Unequivocally," Newt smiled. "I've never come across more fascinating and beautiful creatures as I did there. Of course, the debacles I got into in the States were…a bit of a set back but, then again, everything does serve a purpose."

James eyed him curiously. "Everything?"

Newt nodded. "That's one thing I've learned the most from my work. Nothing exists or occurs for no reason. Even if it can't be quite identified, there is a purpose for everything, or at least an explanation for it. That's the beauty of what the muggles call science. I'm actually rather well read in that field's academic literature. Truly proof of just how innovative humanity is, muggles and wizards alike. Proof that we're more alike than different, too."

James considered that, briefly pulling off his glasses to de-fog them.

"That's rather optimistic."

"I can't blame you for taking that viewpoint," Newt paused for a moment in consideration. "I've found that the most concerned, most pensive people have become pessimistic, jaded from the loss, the pain they've experienced."

James looked at him in surprise. "Have you become a muggle scientist, by chance?"

"I actually have considered engaging their study of psychology," Newt laughed. "Which is what I was describing. I hate to see wizards disregard the muggle sciences. I may even pursue a PhD at some point with the muggles. I earned an undergraduate degree in muggle history and a master's of science in the 70s. My wife and our kids teased me for it, but I really do enjoy it. I think it's integral to engage equally in their world and ours."

James laughed. "Aren't you nearly a hundred?"

Newt winked. "You are never too old to learn. The Queen is not too terribly younger than I am."

"I'm rather impressed by your drive," James stretched out his arms. "I can't even imagine being your age and still motivated to work."

"Fair enough," Newt gasped in amazement when Harry flew past the dragon's flames again.

"Yes!" James stood up, clasping his hands together, screaming his lungs out when his son managed to grab the egg and fly safely out. "Yes! Fuck yes!"

While others ran to get a better look, or to subdue the final dragon, James barely felt anything while he sprinted to meet his son. Energy was coursing through his veins in a break neck pace. Every second that passed, he felt spurred on, both from pride and sheer relief. When he finally got to the champion's tent, he nearly slammed into the other three students to hug his son. Harry jumped in surprise, dropping the egg and letting out a squeak when his dad's arms tightened around him. He started laughing when James let him go, adrenaline whacking against him still. Neither of them noticed that Rita Skeeter had stepped in again to get more pictures of Harry as she had earlier, let alone noticing her leave. Neither of them noticed other parents come in, either, and James couldn't excitedly rambling, only occasionally punctuated by Harry's own rambles. It was one of those moments where it couldn't be gauged how much time had passed or not, with father and son able to forget the stakes of the Tournament, or even the high stakes of the past few months.

"I don't know what the hell that was," Harry finally got out, his voice steadying with his breathing while he picked up the egg again. "It's going to piss off Sirius when he finds out, isn't it?"

"No more than it pissed me off," James admitted while they stepped out of the tent. "I -"

He turned around when he heard footsteps behind them.

"I thought it appropriate to congratulate your son as I did the others," Crouch seemingly ignored the dark look James was giving him. "I didn't want to interrupt your family moment."

"Huh," James crossed his arms. "Didn't think you cared much about the safety of people, why would you care about family? Didn't you send your son away without a second thought?"

Crouch's gaze darkened. "James, of all people, you must understand -"

"I understand the concept of loyalty," James coldly replied. "You only stand for yourself."

"Dad -" Harry nervously started.

"Speaking of which, have you done anything in the investigation into a member of your own department going missing?" James went on, his heart pounding in his chest. "Bertha Jorkins, hasn't she -"

"That issue is more complex than -" Crouch started.

James began to cut in, but then swore under his breath when he saw Eddie and his parents turn around and walk the other way, so obviously not wanting anything to do with whatever it was they thought was going on.

"I don't care what you have to say," James finally went on. "You're putting people at risk for this. If my son dies in this - and there's two more tasks to go - I will take you to court for it."

Crouch shook his head. "You can't take a pleasantry, can you?"

"Means nothing, doesn't it?" James set a protective hand to his son's shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to be able to have some time with my son."