It was an odd picture and yet strangely good.

Since they couldn't all go to one Common Room, they had assembled in the courtyard. In one corner, there was Harry, Ron, Draco, Theo, Neville, Hermione, Susan, Hannah Abbott and Daphne Greengrass.

Marina really had been out of it if she hadn't even noticed Harry and Hermione had befriended the Slytherin girl in Ancient Runes.

And close-by, there were her friends: Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, Katie, Carmen, Trish, Sam, Jolene and Elvira.

She couldn't remember ever seeing members of all Houses getting along. She'd have to send Narcissa a box of chocolate – while arrogant as ever, Draco had actually become a person. And he couldn't really help the arrogance given the family fortune he'd been spoon-fed all his life.

Of course, the subject was the Tournament. Marina could still hear some misgivings about being too young to compete – she, on the other hand, had just personally been in Dumbledore's office to get herself off that list.

Yet she couldn't shake the feeling of dread.

It had been four months since Bellatrix had last made a nuisance of herself – the Dark Mark didn't count since it had been Crouch Jr casting it. And that so-called lead the aurors had gotten was more of a wild pixie chase.

But she'd overheard Ron and Harry talking about how Arthur had had to bail Mad-Eye out of trouble only days before school had started. Most people would just call him paranoid and shrug it off, but...

"Ouch!"

Marina looked up to see Hedwig drop something in Harry's lap. Apparently, she'd had to pick him to get his attention.

He ripped open the letter and skimmed it.

"Sirius is home," he told her, grinning.

Before she could ask if he'd mentioned anything about what had happened, a school owl landed on her – literally – and dropped an evening edition of the Daily Prophet in her lap. That was odd enough in itself, since she'd only subscribed to the morning editions.

Everyone watched as she opened the paper – she didn't have to look for long. It had actually made the front page.

"Harry Potter Adopted !

Precisely thirteen years after the tragic deaths of his parents, the Boy Who Lived is officially no longer an orphan.

A source in the Ministry told us that Mr Sirius Black had petitioned to adopt his godson only a few weeks after he had been granted custody. Given the circumstances of the belated reunion however, the Ministry ruled to wait and see if the arrangement would work out or not – especially considering the fact that the Blacks have welcomed a werewolf into their household.

While the consensus of Hogwarts students is that Remus Lupin had been their best teacher yet, no one can deny how dangerous a creature he really is.

That gives reason to wonder if Mr Black is really the best guardian for the most famous orphan of our world. His own daughter, Marina Black, is reported to be highly advanced in Defence Against the Dark Arts – which makes us wonder why she felt the need to hone her skills at such a young age.

Of course, young Harry has quite a habit of seeking out danger himself, so perhaps all those warning signs don't bother him. Sources tell us that Harry and Marina have been calling each other 'godbrother' and 'godsister' for years, even as they risk each others' lives on a regular basis.

However, whatever misgivings the Ministry seems to have had so far are clearly of no concern anymore.

Just like with the Maturity Exception, which has been granted to Ms Black faster than ever before, the Ministry looks to be helpless against Sirius Black – who, no doubt, uses his false imprisonment to his advantage whenever it suits him.

Early this evening, the Wizard Orphanage and the Ministry signed the adoption papers. Now, young Mr Potter is officially Sirius Black's son – Merlin help him.

Whether or not the boy will now no longer feel the need to be at the center of attention remains to be seen.

– Rita Skeeter"

Marina could only stare at the paper in shock. How the bloody hell did that woman get away with things like this? And what was that editor thinking, letting her?

Carmen took the paper from her and read out loud, so everyone would understand why she was stunned.

"You should have hexed her," Fred grumbled after a moment of silence.

Harry, on the other hand, was happy. It took her a moment to get past the indignation of all the rubbish that woman had just told the world, and focus on what really mattered in that whole article.

The adoption had been granted.

"Yes, because that would help matters," she deadpanned. "You think this is bad? What do you think she'd be writing if I'd jinxed her?"

Then she walked over and hugged her brother. Now it was even legal.

October 31st 1994

"You look like hell," Carmen announced after breakfast.

Marina shot her a glare, but didn't comment. Hard to argue with the truth.

She'd spent the whole night having the same dream... nightmare all over again. Every time she'd fallen asleep, she'd dreamt it again.

That had never happened before – and it was a horrendously bad omen.

She'd seen herself being a Triwizard Champion, which should be utterly impossible, given Dumbledore had personally taken her off the list. Yet that's what she'd spent eight hours seeing.

Even worse though, she'd also seen the Goblet choose Harry – which should be even less of a risk since he hadn't even been on the list.

So first thing in the morning, before even considering breakfast, she'd gone to see Mad-Eye.

Since he was the one who'd instilled the incessant paranoia in her, he hadn't brushed her concerns off. But he had spent an hour assuring her that he had kept an eye on the Goblet all night.

But the knot in her stomach refused to disappear – she'd barely managed to tease Viktor about Karkaroff willing him to become Durmstrang Champion if he could.

Even a letter from David hadn't improved her mood any, though she'd answered immediately. Apparently Charlie was coming for a visit soon – and the Weasley had asked for moral support because he was bringing his girlfriend. Merlin knew Molly would be thrilled. She and Carmen had agreed to come along during the holidays – thinking to themselves that he wouldn't be able to keep the woman secret that long.

Her father had written, again, and promised that he and Remus – Skeeter be damned – would be stopping by on Christmas. They'd rightfully assumed that no one wanted to go home during the Tournament.

It was another reason why she wished they'd never resurrected it.

Hallowe'en Feast

The entire Hall was buzzing with exitement – people had barely eaten, too eager to have the Champions chosen.

Marina hadn't eaten because she was nauseous.

When Dumbledore announced the time had come, her insides coiled. Never in her life had she been hoping so feverently to be wrong – not even when she'd predicted the whole mess with Quirrell.

The Goblet's flames turned bright red and it spit out a tiny piece of parchmant, presumably what remained of one of the lists. Dumbledore caught it.

"The champion for Durmstrang-," he read loudly, "-will be Viktor Krum."

Marina applauded and even managed a smile when Viktor threw her one. But her veins were like ice. One down, two to go.

A few seconds later, a second piece of parchmant came flying out of the Goblet.

"The champion for Beauxbatons-," Dumbledore announced, "-is Fleur Delacour."

The girl was easily the most beautiful in the bunch. She walked towards the door behind the teacher table with such grace that she almost looked as if she was floating.

When everyone focused back on the Goblet, all of Hogwarts was holding its breath. The piece of parchment was tossed out by the flames, Dumbledore caught it.

"The Hogwarts champion is-," he started – and cut himself off. Even across the distance, Marina could sense his shock.

She closed her eyes in silent misery.

"Marina Black," Dumbledore finished – and the Hall exploded in cheers.

Thanks to the Prophet everyone knew she'd gotten an Exception and was therefore, technically, of age. But only so many people knew she'd asked Dumbledore to exclude her.

So while the entire school was celebrating her as champion, she silently stared at the Headmaster, glued to her seat.

Part of her just wanted to refuse, to tell them No and be done with it, but even as she was thinking it, Marina could feel the Goblet's magic settling in her. Binding her.

Something told her that refusing magic as ancient as the Goblet's would be a bad idea.

Her friends on all tables hadn't joined the applause and where staring at her in sympathy.

There was really no use in making a scene in front of everyone, so she forced herself to stand.

"Send Hedwig to Dad," she asked Harry quietly in passing. "He can't find out from the Prophet."

Harry nodded, his eyes as big as saucers, and watched her walk up front.

She hadn't even gotten half of the way, when it happened:

the Goblet's flame turned red again.

Marina's knees almost buckled in dread as everyone gaped at the artefact in confusion. She shook her head in silent denial as Dumbledore seemed to catch the parchment almost on autopilot.

The Headmaster stared at it for a moment, then he met her eyes.

She kept shaking her head, silently asking him not to say it. As if that would change anything.

Everyone was staring at Dumbledore while he was looking at her – torn inside, she could tell. Something had gone terribly wrong right under the man's nose; and now she and her little brother would have to bear the consequences.

Nobody dared move a muscle as the shocked silence continued, not even the teachers. Viktor and Fleur still stood in the doorway, utterly confused.

Marina decided that staring at each other all night wouldn't solve anything, so she put the Headmaster out of his dilemma.

She slowly turned on her heels and looked at Harry.

Her brother sensed as if he'd suddenly turned to ice – numb with shock. He gaped at her, almost as if not comprehending. But everyone understood what she meant, even without her saying it.

"How?" he managed to croak out, trembling.

Marina shook her head – she had no idea, how. Not that it mattered anymore, she thought grimly, as she sensed the Goblet's magic settling in him as well. He was as bound to this mess as she was now.

Outraged whispers started throughout the Hall, some people obviously thinking he'd hoodwinked everyone somehow.

In a remarkable show of support, all of Harry's and her friends – on all the tables – stood and walked over to him, glaring at the complaining morons.

Harry, recovering his Gryffindor courage, pulled himself together and stood to face the disaster.

Marina held out her arm, beckoning him to join her. A very big part of her wasn't planing on letting him out of her sight ever again.

Anyone with half a brain cell could tell that he was less than thrilled but he joined her and the other champions. Together, they walked through the door Dumbledore had indicated before and waited.

Not for long though. Only a minute later the three Heads of the schools, Bagman, Crouch, McGonagall and Snape joined them.

" 'ow could zis 'appen, Dumbly-dorr?" Maxime demanded and waved hand for emphasis. Given her height, she accidentally knocked a chandelier out of the way.

"No one is to blame but Potter," Snape said malevolently. Marina cut him off before he could even get started.

"No student, no matter what age, could have gotten past the protections," she said grimly. "Professor Dumbledore himself put them in place, so I'll wager that even the teachers would have trouble."

Everyone turned to look at her, next to Harry, and shockingly enough, they settled down a bit. She must really have made a picture.

"You could have," Karkaroff disagreed. "We all know how advanced you are, Black."

Lovely. Maybe there was a gossip meeting among Death Eaters.

"Not advanced enough to break anything Dumbledore cast!" she snapped. "And you and Madame Maxime were both there when I asked the Headmaster to take me off that list."

"You do not vant to compete?" Viktor asked – and she took a second to appreciate the progress he'd made in pronounciation within a single day.

"No, I don't," she confirmed. "I'm in the Duelling League, that's quite enough – and now I'll have to quit the Cup this year because there is no way they'll let me duel for it while I'm part of this insanity."

"Assuming you will be," Karkaroff huffed – he actually huffed. Not very dignified considering his usual manners.

"Whoever put Black's and Potter's names in-," growled a deep voice from the door, "-knew they'd have to compete under the Tournament rules."

Mad-Eye had joined the party. Marina had been wondering where he was. For the first time she could remember, she did something she'd sworn she never would. Blaming him.

"How did this happen, Mad-Eye?" she asked, not bothering with his title. "How the bloody hell did whoever did this get past you?"

It boggled the imagination.

"What are you talking about, Black?" McGonagall questioned into the silence that followed.

"I had a Seeing all night last night-," she explained. "-, predicting this very nightmare. So I went to talk to Mad-Eye first thing in the morning. He said he watched the Goblet all night."

"My eye is not infallible," he grumbled when everyone turned to stare at him.

"Not, but on guard duty you are," she said. Something was very wrong, aside from the obvious.

"It really is no matter," Crouch butted in. "We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete."

A rush of hatred washed through Marina at the sound of his voice. She frowned.

She hated Crouch, true, but that hadn't been her own emotion.

"C'est impossible," Maxime complained. "It is not just. I will be sending complains to the Ministry and the-"

"The only ones with reason to complain-," a new voice snapped angrily, "- are my children."

Marine whirled around and gasped. Her father was beyond furious. There was no word in the English language to describe his anger.

He'd evidently been sparring with Remus, since they were both wearing duelling robes.

"Carmen asked Professor Flitwick to send us a Patronus message," Remus explained.

They both strode over to them – but they knew better than to hug either her or Harry in mixed company.

"And you what? Apparated straight to Hogsmeade?"

"Floo-ed to my office," McGonagall supplied helpfully.

But apparently not even the arrival of her infamous father was enough to quell the outrage.

"Why should zey complain?" Fleur burst out – all that was missing was her stamping a foot. "Zey 'ave a chance to compete, don't zey? We 'ave been 'oping to be chosen for weeks! Ze 'onour for our schools! A thousand Galleons – zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping they are going to die for it," her father growled, voicing the very thought that had crossed her mind.

But it was very strange indeed that Mad-Eye hadn't said it first.

"Someone very skilled put their names in that Goblet," Remus said seriously.

"What evidence is zere of zat?" Maxime asked, throwing up her hands.

"They somehow managed to bamboozle the Goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the Tournament. Yet here we are, with four champions," her Dad elaborated, his voice cold as ice.

"You just don't want to believe your brats did this themselves," Karkaroff dismissed him.

Harry had apparently had enough.

"Marina and I have risked our lives before, when it really mattered," he snapped – and everyone looked surprised that he was speaking up. "Going up against dark wizards, the basilisk, the ruddy dementors... there was a good reason behind it all. Why in the name of Merlin would we want to risk our lives for this nonsense?"

An awkward silence followed. But Fleur hadn't given up yet, and opened her mouth to list the reasons again.

"Fleur-," Marina said before the girl could so much as get one word out, "-, Harry inherited his grandparents' fortune – since James and Lily never spent it – and I inherited my great-grandfather's. It's all been sitting in our vaults for over a decade – the interest the goblins grant alone... … We have enough savings to last a lifetime.

And we're both more famous than we'd ever want to be, without doing a damn thing."

Finally, there seemed to be nothing anyone could say to that.

After it had been established that they didn't have a choice but to compete, the group had dispersed quickly. Karkaroff and Maxime were still fuming with indignation, but at least Fleur and Viktor believed them when they said they hadn't done this themselves.

In this instance, the empathy was a relief.

Once McGonagall had all but pushed Snape out, Remus and her Dad had not been able to take it anymore and pulled Harry and her into a group hug.

"Well, at least it'll be old news," Harry mumbled after a minute. "Going in blind is pretty much par for the course."

The first task, they'd been told, was on November 23rd and they wouldn't know what they'd be facing until a few minutes before then.

"You've trained all summer," Marina muttered and squeezed his shoulder. "You're at least a year ahead in DADA – we'll just have to keep training Charms and Transfiguration." Which was a lot easier said than done when they didn't know what they were training for.

November 5th 1994

This entire mess was even worse than she'd expected. While their friends stood with them, no questions asked, the rest of Hogwarts was convinced Harry had cheated his way in.

The worst wrinkle however, was Ron.

The Weasley knew Harry hadn't entered himself, yet didn't seem to grasp that Harry wouldn't compete if given a choice. Apparently, he believed Harry had gotten lucky.

So now the best friends weren't talking – which put Hermione and Susan in a rather awkward position. The girls kept running back and forth, trying to get them to reconcile. At the end of the day though, Hermione stuck with Harry – probably because she was angry at Ron's behavior, even though she'd never say so – and Susan stuck with Ron – because she felt the same way he did.

Marina, as far as the school was concerned the legit Hogwarts champion, got applause wherever she went. It was maddening.

Then last night she'd had a dream...

It was Dromeda's back yard, Marina recognised, before the dream sucked her in. It was a memory from when she'd been twelve...

She was studying up on her Charms essay, lying on her back during sunset, when she sensed someone approaching. Marina smiled.

"Hello, Grandpa," she greeted the man.

Arcturus Black was an imposing figure of a wizard. Always dressed in impeccable, tailored robes and wearing the family ring, he embodied the very image if wizarding nobility.

The fact that he had more power than three average wizards combined didn't hurt either.

Technically, Arcturus wasn't her grandfather, but her Dad's. But from the very first time he'd showed up, when she'd been seven, he'd insisted she call him Grandpa.

Given what she'd read in her Mum's journals that was rather odd.

According to her parents, Arcturus was a pure-blood fanatic as much as any Death Eater, and he would not have approved of his grandson having a child with a muggle-born. And considering that almost all members of the family had joined Voldemort's ranks during the war, the Black name had a bitter aftertaste.

So she'd been positively surprised when it had turned out her father had been wrong about Arcturus. He would have prefered pure-bloods to stay in power as far as politics went, yes, but he was not quite as fanatic as his son and his wife had been.

Last year then, he'd told her that after after the war – when it had been save to do anything – he'd gone and made her his heir, leaving her grandparents and Dromeda's sisters nothing.

Marina had asked what had happened to her Dad, who should have been heir instead, but Arcturus had told her not to ask again – because Dromeda had made it a condition of allowing him contact with her that he take an Unbreakable Vow that he would never answer her questions about her father. Marina hadn't spoken to her for weeks.

Her grandfather had been a somewhat steady visitor since, showing up at least once during every holidays.

"Hello, sweetheart." Dromeda had just about fainted the first time he'd called her that.

Marina looked up at his tone – and gasped.

Arcturus looked positively awful. He was clutching his cane, which had always been for show, as if his life depended on it. His naturally pale skin had turned green, his eyes were blood-shot and he'd lost weight.

That certainly explained why Ted had insisted on casting protective charms on her this morning.

"Have you been to St. Mungo's?" she asked, scrambling to her feet.

"It's too late," he replied steadily, sneezing. Sparks came out of his nose.

Her grandfather was 89 years old – Dragon Pox was almost always lethal at that age.

"Don't feel bad," he said gently when she felt tears burning in her eyes. "I survived Voldemort – like I told the coward I would – and managed to take of you, so I'm ready to go."

"You met Him?" she asked, startled. It was the first she heard of it.

"He tried to recruit me once," Arcturus confirmed. "I told him to go to hell."

Obviously her father hadn't know that given the attitude he'd had according to her Mum.

"How long do you have?" she question quietly and forced herself not to cry. He abhorred weakness.

"Not even until you go back to school," he answered her, sneezing again. "You'll be just fine, sweetheart, I know it."

"How?"

"You're a Black," he said proudly, with a hint of his ususal arrogant smile. "And Blacks are survivors, no matter what."

She hadn't remembered that in some time. Arcturus had been right, of course. He hadn't even lasted until the end of the month.

The irony didn't escape her – Harry's grandparents had died of the Pox too. The universe was having a riot at their expense.

Marina shook herself out of her musings in time for DADA. Mad-Eye always allowed her and the rest of the advanced students to do homework while he was teaching the rest, so it lightened their load.

Today, though, they'd barely sat down when Mad-Eye stopped in his tracks and stared at the door. Seconds later, a first-year entered hesitantly and stuttered that Marina was needed upstairs. Poor kid was terrified of the grouch.

He waved her out and she sighed, knowing what this was about. She'd read the Tournament rules and knew that before anything else happened, someone would evaluate their wands to check if they were still in working order.

By the time she arrived at the classroom they'd be occupying for the Weighing of the Wands, Viktor and Fleur were already there, as were the judges – Karkaroff, Maxime, Crouch, Bagman and Dumbledore – and a photographer.

Marina was about to ask when Harry came bursting out of... a broom closet... followed closely by Rita Skeeter.

Lovely, she thought, poor Harry had been ambushed by the cockroach.

Her brother shot her a look that spoke volumes of the article they'd probably soon get to read, then they took their seats.

"May I introduce Mr Ollivander?" Dumbledore said, sitting down too. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the Tournament."

The old wizard stepped forward from the window and stayed in the middle of the room.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, if you would?" Ollivander asked politely. Fleur all but floated over to him and handed over her wand.

The wand-maker twieled the wand and inspected it carefully.

"Nine and a half inches, inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela," Fleur confirmed proudly. "One of my grandmuzzers."

Well, that certainly explained why the male students in the castle had been going gaga over the young woman.

Ollivander then produced a bouquet of flowers and declared her wand in perfect order, before handing her both.

"Ms Black, you next."

The man was obviously working under the Ladies first guise of manners.

"Ah, yes, this is one of mine, isn't it?" Ollivander said exitedly once she handed him her wand. "Yes, I remember. Ten and a half inches, ebony, and dragon heartstring... inflexible. It's in good condition. "

Then the man transfigured an extra chair into a throne worthy of a queen (his words, not hers) before handing it back, satisfied.

"Mr Krum, please."

Viktor shuffled over and gave up his wand, scowling. The kids were still astounded how unsteady he looked with both feet on the ground, she knew.

"Gregorovitch made this one. … Hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" Ollivander asked Viktor, who nodded. "Rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"

Birds came out of the wand and Ollivander proclaimed Victor's wand in impeccable condition.

"That leaves... Mr Potter."

Harry had told her what had happened when he'd bought that wand, and as Ollivander held it up for inspection they both sincerely hoped the wand-maker wasn't about to tell everyone about the connection to Voldemort's wand. Especially with Skeeter in the room.

But, thankfully, he didn't and handed the wand back to Harry.

And then, they had to endure the photo-shoot. Skeeter was relentless, not matter how much all four of them protested.

That article was going to unleash hell on earth.