"Do you think I should ask?" Harry asked Lyra, for the third time in ten minutes.

"Do you want me to ask? Is that why you keep asking me instead of just doing it?"

"Would you?" he asked, shooting yet another look at Krum, Delacour, and the two newly-selected Champions — Ingrid Hannasdottir from Durmstrang and Artémisia Cæciné from Beauxbatons. "I don't like to interrupt..."

Lyra was actually pretty sure Harry just didn't want to know the answer to his question, which was whether Fleur or Cæciné (Harry called her "Arte", which was weird, how would they have met?) knew whether Gabbie was going to be allowed to stay at Hogwarts for the duration of the tournament, just in case it was a no. (Well, that and he didn't speak French.) She was pretty sure the answer was yes, because how exactly were they going to stop Gabbie from just flying back up here again if they dragged her home (or, more intelligently, flooing up to the coast, flying across the Channel, and then flooing to Hogsmeade)? Granted, Lyra hadn't seen the little veela all day either, but she hadn't really been looking for her. She assumed she was confined to the Beauxbatons carriage while her father tried to convince her to go home and stay home, but she also assumed that wouldn't last long. Keeping a veela locked up was kind of torture, apparently.

Harry had explained in excruciating detail the course of the hours they'd spent getting to know each other yesterday, with an enthusiasm that had prompted her to ask Blaise whether he'd been enthralled by the allure. (No, according to Blaise, who found Harry's apparent garden-variety crush to be as adorable as Lyra found it annoying.) But that was only relevant insofar as he'd only met Gabrielle in the first place because she'd gone out to take a nap on the roof because the curtains on Lyra's four-poster had been too confining.

She rolled her eyes at him, but before she could ask Gabbie's sister how long she was grounded for, Zee swept up to the podium someone had conjured at the front of the room. "If I might have your attention, please?" she said — in French, of course (Harry was the only person here who didn't speak it, and he'd said something about needing the practice, because he wouldn't learn French because it was the bloody international language, but he would learn it because Gabrielle) — waving them toward a semicircle of plain, straight-backed chairs arranged before herself, obviously intended for the six of them.

The heads of the schools and the other judges had conjured seats for themselves along the walls — seats with various degrees of complexity (Karkaroff had backed his intricately-carved wooden monstrosity with what appeared to be ermine) and unnecessary gilt (Maxime's, though that might be a veiled critique of the Hogwarts decor) and overly-stuffed velvet cushions (which didn't make Dumbledore look any more comfortable). If she didn't know better, she'd say they were trying to out-do one another. "Slytherin" had decided to play along, creating an exact replica of the Slytherin Seat in the Wizengamot, though Cassie was leaning against a wall, all fidgety and anxious — Cæciné was only fifteen, which Cassie would probably be all edgy about until she managed to demonstrate that she wasn't a helpless little kid. (Which was kind of silly, the Cæcinés had a reputation for badassery kind of like the Blacks', except light, but Cassie had been awfully stubborn about Lyra being a child, even after seeing her kill half a dozen giant man-eating spiders with a pointed stick.) Angel's mind mage friend had taken one look at the rest of them and rolled her eyes before conjuring what had to be a muggle chair for herself — it had wheels, and spun. Though, if they were trying to out-do one another, none of them could quite top Angel just deciding to hover in mid-air as though there was a chair (and an invisible footstool) where there definitely wasn't one.

Delacour wasn't there. Lyra hadn't seen him all day, either, which she thought only supported her theory that he was still trying to convince Gabbie to go home. She was pretty sure the fact that Gabbie had been discovered almost twenty-four hours ago and still hadn't caved suggested that she wasn't going to. (As if flying six-hundred miles by herself didn't scream commitment all on its own.) Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be worried that she might be worn down, if her father kept at it long enough...as opposed to digging in her heels the more anyone tried to convince her she should leave. (Which was just silly, hadn't he spent the entire day talking to her? And he hadn't figured that out? Whatever.)

After a bit of shuffling about, Lyra ended up at one end of the arc, Harry between herself and "Arte" — Lyra noticed the little blonde had a Seer's silver eyes, she actually looked a lot like Luna, which was odd — whom he still didn't ask about Gabbie, even though he had plenty of time while they waited for the Durmstrangers to decide which of them got to sit next to Fleur. Or possibly had to sit next to Fleur — Lyra's Nordic wasn't great, but she was pretty sure she caught Ingrid saying something vaguely disparaging about veela. The hooded glare Fleur shot at her behind Krum's back supported that interpretation, anyway.

"Excellent," Zee said, smoothly ignoring the tension at the other end of the line. "Now we've all managed to settle in, and I believe everyone is acquainted...?" Nods, shrugs. "Yes, well then, I believe it is time to discuss the events! As some of you are aware, each of your schools designed three events for this Tournament. The order of these events has been determined by lottery, with the first being one submitted by Durmstrang: a three-way war-game.

"The Champions for each school will choose a team of fifteen — that is, yourselves plus thirteen additional students — who will attempt to complete several objectives to be stated on the morning of the task. I think it is not too much information to tell you that such games often involve defending an object or place, as well as attempting to capture one belonging to the opposing team or teams. The task will take place in the Forest, out on the grounds, on Saturday the twelfth of this month. The area, approximately a quarter of a square kilometer, is marked out with small runestones. If you have any questions about its location, you may ask your headteacher, all of whom were involved in the placing of the markers. This gives you ten days to choose your team, familiarise yourselves with the field of battle, and prepare your strategies. Your progress will be monitored by house elves bearing an adaptation of the omnioculars I understand many of you will have seen at the Quidditch World Cup this year, and projected on screens for the enjoyment of non-participants."

Lyra felt a grin tugging at her lips. This is going to be so much fun!

"The second task is one suggested by Hogwarts. It will also be a team event, taking place in Muggle Edinburgh. Each champion will, with the assistance of two companions, attempt to navigate the city and acquire several objects, without endangering the Statute of Secrecy or revealing yourselves to be anything other than foreign muggle tourists." Harry snorted lightly at that, as though he suspected none of the others would be able to manage it, earning him a glare from both Lyra and Cæciné on his other side. "Your companions for this excursion must be students, and may not be members of your team for the War Game, which you may wish to bear in mind when choosing your teams." Well, that would make things more difficult... "The task will be held on the third of December, with house elves similarly monitoring the progress of each group. Three professors, one from each school, will escort the twelve companions on a two-day trip to the city, the weekend of November nineteenth and twentieth, in order to familiarise them with its basic layout, methods of transportation, currency, and the local muggle customs, so you will want to have appointed your companions by that time.

"The third event of the Tournament will not be a task, but rather the Yule Ball, which, as I'm sure you are all aware, is traditionally opened by the Champions. As such, you may wish to secure your escorts in good time to ensure you will be prepared to do so. After some debate, it was decided that the opening dance would be a waltz, for the sake of those who are unfamiliar with traditional ballroom dances. In a concession to certain members of the judges' panel, the Yule Ball will be held on December twenty-fifth. I understand all of our guests are also invited to attend the Festa Morgana on the twenty-first, if you are so inclined. This year's event is a masque, and will be hosted by the Noble House of Malfoy."

Lovely, Cissy was going to be insufferable. Probably even more than when she found out that Lyra had terrified her son into pissing himself this morning, questioning him about his role in entering Harry in the Tournament, but that simply couldn't be helped, he was just such a wimp. A wimp who had no idea how Harry's name had gotten in that Goblet, or why he'd even thought it was a good idea to hit him with that jinx in the middle of the Great Hall in the first place, which meant someone had probably compelled him to do it, which meant they were also fucking with Draco. If Lyra weren't already annoyed with this particular someone over Harry she might not give a shite, but as it was, she found herself even more irritated with them for it.

Harry jabbed her in the side with a sharp finger, giving her a very significant glare, which...she'd kind of forgotten about not flooding the room with magic, again. Oops? She had been getting better, what with Éanna and Gin throwing stinging jinxes at her whenever she did it around them, but she was, in her defence, very irritated at the moment. And completely unable to do anything about it. She closed her eyes and focused on containing herself as Zee continued.

"The third task, to be held January fourteenth, is designed to test your mettle and ingenuity, and as such you will be provided no details before the day of the event itself." Dragons, probably — Cassie had definitely mentioned fighting dragons, which Harry had wasted no time freaking out about, even before they'd made it down to the Revel. Plus Angel had said something about keeping him alive through the third task, that was probably the most dangerous. "You will be provided details about the next three tasks after the third task is complete." That was...kind of weird, Lyra thought? Why wait? But whatever. "There is also a traditional event known as the Weighing of the Wands which is scheduled for this coming Saturday. It's more a formality than anything, intended to ensure that your primary focus is in good condition before sending you into potentially hazardous situations in which your life may depend on its efficacy. This has not been a true concern since the development of modern wandcrafting, but it is still tradition. Secondary foci will be allowed in a number of events. If you have a habitual second focus and wish a qualified wandmaker to examine it to ensure it is in good working order, I'm sure Master Ollivander will oblige. Your headteachers have agreed to allow several local journalists to attend the event and take photos of the Champions for their publications, though whether you agree to give private interviews is up to you and your families.

"Are there any questions I might address at this time?"

Lyra listened with half an ear as Ingrid asked something about the second task, in Edinburgh, whether they would be allowed to use translation charms — stupid question, of course they would. Zee hadn't said they couldn't, so. She'd probably use an aging potion herself, just because, well, she was aware that she looked like a bloody twelve-year-old by muggle standards. She was far more concerned with what tasks might allow a secondary focus, and what the most versatile might be — she, obviously, would be using her knife, and there was no way in hell she was letting Ollivander touch it. She might have to let him examine her wand, but that was fine — it was new. Her knife was from her own time and moreover it was a temporal copy of Bella's preferred weapon. Not that she still had hers, Lyra didn't think, but if this was the same Master Wandmaker Ollivander she was thinking of — Garrick, she thought his first name was — he was widely known to have a talent for scrying objects and their history. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to let him see the things that knife, hers or Bella's, had seen.

Harry, on the other hand, didn't know how to use a knife. He didn't have a secondary focus at all, so far as Lyra knew. Ideally she'd say he should get a second wand, mind mages were cheaters when it came to the divided focus trick you needed to cast two distinct spells simultaneously, but learning to use it properly would take a while. It would probably be better to outfit him with one of the more automatic defensive artefacts in the Vault — she'd have to pop down to London and see what she could find. She vaguely recalled Uncle Danny having a ring with a very comprehensive suite of active shielding enchantments on it. Might be a bit of a drain, if he had to use it too much, but it would definitely stand up to dragonfire — this was the same Eridanus whose dragon-hunting tent they'd commandeered for the World Cup, he'd made her use it the one time she'd managed to convince him to take her with him on a hunt, just to be safe (which of course she had taken as permission to not even try to stay out of the way, which was why she'd only managed to convince him to take her along once). But she wasn't sure what would have happened to it when he died, which was...bloody ages ago, in this universe. And on the other hand, it might be better to give him something that had some offensive functions as well. Staves were pretty easy to get used to, and there was a lot to be said for the ability to whack things with a six-foot-long stick. Or... "Can a broom count as a secondary focus?"

Zee glared at her for asking a good, legitimate question. Brooms were, generally speaking, not considered secondary foci — though they did, in fact, function exactly like one, from a technical perspective. And Harry was a damn good flier, if he could have a broom that could give him a massive advantage in evading or attacking an opponent. Up to and including a bloody dragon. "I will confer with the judges and let you know. Any other questions?"

It seemed there were none. A few of the other champions — Krum, Fleur, and Harry — gave her a couple of odd looks, probably trying to figure why she would want a broom as a secondary focus, but after a moment the meeting was declared to be concluded, and they were dismissed. Harry hovered indecisively as the Beauxbatons Champions made to leave.

Oh, for fuck's sake! "Hey, Delacour! Did your dear papa decide whether Gabbie gets to stay here yet? I'm asking for a friend."

Fleur fixed her with a rather haughty glare, which softened slightly as she realised that Harry was still there, too, being all awkward and hopeful.

"It's just, um, I was hoping I...might be able to see her?" he mumbled. "It's, well, I know it's none of my business, just, I thought we really hit it off, and—"

"You are the British boy she says is perfectly normal and nice and charming, and has been holding up as an example of why Papa should allow her to stay?"

"Er...am I?"

"Probably. How many Brits has she actually met?" Lyra pointed out.

"Well, it could be Blaise, he's much more charming than I am..."

Something in that response must have been endearing to the veela, because she softened at once. "No. Papa has not convinced her to go home. She has been told that she must stay in our Carriage, for her safety. But, Papa has not said that she may not have visitors."

Harry perked up at once. "Really?"

His surprise was echoed by Cæciné, though hers was of a much more suspicious tone. "I seem to recall Madame saying that we may not bring Hogwarts students into the Carriage."

"What Madame does not know will not hurt us, and you have seen how very sad Gabrielle has been."

Cæciné's eyes tipped toward the ceiling, ever so briefly. "Everyone has seen how very sad Gabbie is. It is impossible to miss how very sad she is!"

Lyra barely managed not to snigger. Apparently the little veela was making everyone around her just as miserable as she was.

"So, you agree we should bring Potter back with us to cheer her up a bit."

"Ugh, I suppose... Come on, Potter."

"Oh! Right now? Um, Lyra, could you..."

This time, she completely failed not to snigger. "Yes, yes, if Blaise asks, I'll tell him you're off snogging your new girlfriend."

Harry went positively scarlet, which was even funnier than his surprised delight. "You're not funny, Lyra!"

"I'm fucking hilarious," she informed him, sweeping past the three of them. "And also late to meet Maïa, so have fun. Don't do anything Blaise wouldn't do!" she called back over her shoulder. From the way the French girls giggled, Harry went all red and stuttery again. Tee hee.

Now that Samhain is done, we're going back to posting scene-by-scene. We actually have a small buffer atm, so you'll get a couple more updates over the next week before we catch up. After that, posts will come as we finish them.

Remember Leigha mentioning that a throwaway line in the Revel inspired her to come up with a whole new story where Sirius impulsively turns himself into a girl and accidentally fucks up the entire war? Yeah, there's like, almost a hundred thousand words in that, and she's about to post it tonight. I believe it will be called "The Lady of New Avalon", but she's currently only posting it on AO3. Her user name there is PseudoLeigha. It is amusing, have funsies.

—Lysandra